Bread and Circuses

Chapter 76: THE WAG-TAIL

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About This Book

A lyrical collection of short poems ranges from quiet country scenes and childhood memories to urban sketches and religious reflections. The poet renders streams, gardens, market sellers, and domestic interiors in close sensory detail while pairing everyday observation with moral and spiritual meditation. Animal vignettes and playful pieces for children sit alongside elegies, prayers, and ironic portraits of modern life, producing tones of humour, tenderness, and solemnity. Varied forms and concise portraits move between pastoral lanes, London streets, and intimate household moments while attending to time, sorrow, and faith.

THE WAG-TAIL

By brook and bent, Alert and diligent, All day my merry wag-tail went,

Soberly clad She seemed, in feathers sad Which yet a fair white braiding had;

Nor did she fail With jerking beak and tail Quite to dislodge th’ incurious snail,

And thence away To the pollard where all day Her brown big-footed babies lay.

—I do desire No better, nor look higher, Pied wag-tail, than thy plain attire;

Nor would I roam Afar, but kindly come Back to th’ acclaiming mouths at home.

Like thee to run About my works begun And pluck delights from ev’ry one.

Where (might I do’t) Living, my only suit, And dead, my dearest attribute.