This poem took rather less time than the last, a bare 8 minutes to compose. Sometimes one is in a devil of a hurry. It looked OK at a glance.
New Year at Rodmell
The sponge behind my forehead
is pale and dry and rather dim
like a bloody sun in a fog -
exasperated unhappy strugglin'
worked over with heat and yaps of dogs
unlike the parson astride his saddle
or the cold dishonest footman
with clear hard picture of human life
where the whole world falls into shape.