Miniver Cheevy by E.A. Robinson 1910 Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn, Grew lean while he assailed the seasons; He wept that he was ever born, And he had reasons. Miniver loved the days of old When swords were bright and steeds were prancing; The vision of a warrior bold Would set him dancing. Miniver sighed for what was not, And dreamed, and rested from his labors; He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot, And Priam's neighbors. Miniver mourned the ripe renown That made so many a name so fragrant; He mourned Romance, now on the town, And Art, a vagrant. Miniver loved the Medici, Albeit he had never seen one; He would have sinned incessantly Could he have been one. Miniver cursed the commonplace And eyed a khaki suit with loathing; He missed the mediaeval grace Of iron clothing. Miniver scorned the gold he sought, But sore annoyed was he without it; Miniver thought, and thought, and thought, And thought about it. Miniver Cheevy, born too late, Scratched his head and kept on thinking; Miniver coughed, and called it fate, And kept on drinking. E.A. Robinson, 1910 I am posting this because I think everyone who wants to go back in time should read it. No judgment, just some food for thought.
i actually read this poem and fell in love with its irony....and then did a report on it... so many of us are wishing for the past, and in the end... hopefully not, but we'll end up like miniver cheevy!! and thats exactly what the past wasnt. this really taught me to make what i believe into reality, or just drink myself away...either one
