A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000)
by Alec Derwent Hope
I sing of the decline of Henry Clay
Who loved a white girl of uncommon size.
Although a small man in a little way,
He had in him some seed of enterprise.
Each day he caught the seven-thirty train
To work, watered his garden after tea,
Took an umbrella if it looked like rain A
nd was remarkably like you or me.
He had his hair cut once a fortnight, tried
Not to forget the birthday of his wife,
And might have lived unnoticed till he died
Had not ambition entered Henry’s life.
He met her in the lounge of an hotel;
A most unusual place for him to go;
But there he was and there she was as well
Sitting alone. He ordered beers for two.
She was so large a girl that when they came
He gave the waiter twice the usual tip.
She smiled without surprise, told him her name,
And as the name trembled on Henry’s lip,
His parched soul, swelling like a desert root,
Broke out its delicate dream upon the air;
The mountains shook with earthquake under foot;
An angel seized him suddenly by the hair;
The sky was shrill with peril as he passed;
A hurricane crushed his senses with its din;
The wildfire crackled up his reeling mast;
The trumpet of a maelstrom sucked hirn in;
The desert shrivelled and burnt off his feet;
His bones and buttons an enormous snake
Vomited up; still in the shimmering heat
The pygmies showed him their forbidden lake
And then transfixed him with their poison darts;
He married six black virgins in a bunch,
Who, when they had drawn out his manly parts,
Stewed him and ate him lovingly for lunch.
Adventure opened wide its grisly jaws;
Henry looked in and knew the Hero’s doom.
The huge white girl drank on without a pause
And, just at closing time, she asked him home.
The tram they took was full of Roaring Boys
Announcing the world’s ruin and Judgment Day;
The sky blared with its grand orchestral voice
The Gotterdammerung of Henry Clay.
But in her quiet room they were alone.
There, towering over Henry by a head,
She stood and took her clothes off one by one,
And then she stretched herself upon the bed.
Her bulk of beauty, her stupendous grace
Challenged the lion heart in his puny dust.
Proudly his Moment looked him in the face:
He rose to meet it as a hero must;
Climbed the white mountain of unravished snow,
Planted his tiny flag upon the peak.
The smooth drifts, scarcely breathing, lay below.
She did not take the trouble to smile or speak.
And afterwards, it may have been in play,
The enormous girl rolled over and squashed him flat;
And, as she could not send him home that way,
Used him thereafter as a bedside mat.
Speaking at large, I will say this of her: S
he did not spare expense to make him nice.
Tanned on both sides and neatly edged with fur,
The job would have been cheap at any price.
And when, in winter, getting out of bed,
Her large soft feet pressed warmly on the skin,
The two glass eyes would sparkle in his head,
The jaws extend their papier-mache grin.
Good people, for the soul of Henry Clay
Offer your prayers, and view his destiny!
He was the Hero of our Time. He may
With any luck, one day, be you or me.
A few random poems:
- Cuchulan’s Fight With The Sea by William Butler Yeats
- Sonnet 98: From you have I been absent in the spring by William Shakespeare
- Олег Бундур – Время со Светой
- How Distant by Philip Larkin
- Epigram : To Christina, Queen Of Sweden, With Cromwell’s Picture (Translation) by William Cowper
- Илья Эренбург – Я не трубач, труба
- Владимир Высоцкий – Всё меньше вас, участники войны
- Unstitching by Satish Verma
- Омар Хайям – Не устану в неверном театре теней
- Because We Never Practiced With The Escape Chamber poem – Alice Fulton poems | Poetry Monster
- Night dyes its hair by Vladimir Marku
- Robert Burns: Wha Is That At My Bower-Door:
- Do You Remember Once
- Head of a Smiling Young Woman in Three-Quarter View by Raj Arumugam
- A Child’s Evening Prayer by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Владимир Орлов – Летит корабль
- Владимир Орлов – Ковровые дорожки
- Владимир Орлов – Кому что снится?
- Владимир Орлов – Как Таппи научился лаять
- Владимир Орлов – Как появились ромашки
- Владимир Орлов – Где петушок носит гребешок
- Владимир Орлов – Дядя Миша на печи
- Владимир Орлов – Добрый день
- Владимир Орлов – Цветное молоко
- Владимир Орлов – Что нельзя купить
- Владимир Орлов – Белые стихи о черном пуделе
- Владимир Набоков – Забудешь ты меня, как эту ночь забудешь
- Владимир Набоков – Я на море гляжу из мраморного храма
- Владимир Набоков – Встреча
- Владимир Набоков – Воскресение мёртвых
- Владимир Набоков – Верба
- Владимир Набоков – Вдали от берега, в мерцании морском
- Владимир Набоков – В полнолунье, в гостиной пыльной и пышной
- Владимир Набоков – Ut pictura poesis
- Владимир Набоков – Ты многого, слишком ты многого хочешь
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) was an Australian poet and essayist known for his satirical slant. He was also a critic, teacher and academic.