A Rouse for Roethke

Big Ted Roethke, what's his game?
He can buss the butterfly,
He can snow the blushing rose,
Call Dame Ladybug by name.

 

Count of creaturely delight,
He can herrick with the best:
Married to the wormy earth,
He's the swain of gladdest girth.

 

When he dances, Bedlam sings;
Barmaids pluck their silver strings:
Joyful bodies rub and budge
To his red-blood psalms of love.

 

Watch him garland up a page!

He's no mushroom, he's a sage!

He can coax the daffodil

With a single syllable.

 

Theodore, my robust rhymer,
No one bards a garden finer!
You're the heir and princely son

Of Clare, Carew, and Campion.





Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 44 times
Written on 2018-02-05 at 02:32

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Huzzah! I, too, am a Ted fan.
2018-02-05


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Wonderful ode to a brilliant poet.
2018-02-05