At more than double the age of Keats
I found the book of which he bleats
Of new-kenned worlds and other trash;
I plucked it up, laid down the cash
& took it home across the seas
Where I laid it aside to learn Japanese.
Then found it again at age fifty-five,
My Japanese enough to live
(Though not as good as I'd want it to be,
But let me return to this poetry):
The pages are yellow, the binding is loose
The words are not the words I'd choose,
But still and all it's not too bad,
Old Chapman was a right clever lad.
Jesse Glass
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