I saw a crowd of professional thieves dressed in black and yellow
Over the hill in our Orchard of cherries in flower
And returning home with their golden breeches;
Poor thieves, they toil and sweat for many days long,
To build store and share gratis with others,
What provisions they may spare willingly
And by doing so they gained the respect of the world,
Would those wealthy nations sack their brains
And tickle the palm of those nations in utter need
Of what they have over their need,
To gain our goodwill and respect,
So that we may grade them with the bees
And call them honest thieves?
At this moment I thought of the kitchen
And a dish of honey – combs distilled,
Together with a waffle, smeared with butter.
I called for Sam and he climbed up the stairs
With a dish of hot cakes instead ;
I was pleased and began to eat .
What a delicious breakfast, I was telling Sam,
When I heard the morning bells chiming
I woke up licking my finger tips, wondering
About the number of people living on this earth ,
Who may have had similar dreams.
And are still running behind.
The chariot of hope with empty stomachs.
In Memory of Wordsworth And His Sonnet Upon Westminster Bridge
Wordsworth I stand where once you stood before
On this bridge of antiquity and fame,
Where emperor tourist and troubadour
Have come to London in honour of your name .
Never a star was so much glorified
During the remote ages of our race,
When diviners and sages deified
The stars and lived empowered by their grace.
What a mental conquest, what a crusade,
Across the lofty fields of poetry!
What armies of deathless thoughts you have made
Across the living wilds of poesy!
Wordsworth, your words worth being a tableau,
Pranked by the life-like hue of your sonnet
With the stately views of the world that show
Old London wearing a gray sky bonnet
Here, on this Westminster Bridge I cry,
Do you hear my far yawp through the years loud,
The Thames meandering to the sea to die,
And again into being from a cloud?
Although you fell silent long ago,
You are enlivened by your poesy ,
To remain time honoured in your chateau
Bearing the regal crown of prosody.