Alan Halsey

Sam: Johnson

immense idle bones and such convulsive starts distorting his face
That speech I wrote in a garret in Exeter Street to escape
(I saw my wife was crying) from white bubbies and silk stockings
our English Lexiphanes the Rambler whose heart almost broke
Pomposo whose distresses and desires have so much increased
with a pension of £300 a year sore eyes and the palsy
There is no arguing with vain terrour and negligence
I am very unwilling and not obliged to write my history of melancholy
but to let Madame do what unhappy fancy that Confinement and Fetters
too ugly to kiss Toctor Shonson
would not trouble too much with the Lives of the Poets
in unmerciful nights and great want of company
sadly broken but one of the most fervent & Eloquent prayers

from Lives of the Poets


Thomas Hoccleve
Sir Walter Ralegh

Thomas Warton
Charlotte Smith


© 2003 Electronic Poetry Review