!DOCTYPE html> html> head lang=”en-US”> title>Epitaph On A Disturber Of His Times by A. S. J. Tessimond/title> /div> h1 class=”pageTitle”>Epitaph On A Disturber Of His Times/h1> div class=”entry-content clearfix”> h2 class=”author”>by A. S. J. Tessimond/h2> div id=”content”> p>We expected the violin’s finger on the upturned nerve;br /> Its importunate cry, too laxly curved:br /> And you drew us an oboe-outline, clean and acute;br /> Unadorned statement, accurately carved./p> p>We expected the screen, the background for reveriebr /> Which cloudforms usefully weave:br /> And you built the immaculate, adamant, blue-green steelbr /> Arch of a balanced wave./p> p>We expected a pool with flowers to diffuse and breakbr /> The child-round face of the mirrored moon:br /> And you blazed a rock-path, begun near the sun, to be finishedbr /> By the trained and intrepid feet of men./p>/div> p>br /> br> /body> /html>
Arthur Seymour John Tessimond (1902 -1962) was an English poet. He had a tumultuous childhood, ran from boarding school, went to work, somehow attended the University of Liverpool, avoided service in WWI and then discovered that he is unfit for military service after he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which in those days was known as manic depression. A.S. Tessimond is a wonderful poet though maybe somewhat underappreciated poet. He died from in 1962 from a brain haemorrhage.