Now at the last grasp of Love’s latest breath,
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod.
One day I wrote her name on the strand.
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget.
If all the pens that ever poets held
Are yet to times in hope my verse shall stand.
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Vain lunatic, against these scrapes I could
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn.
A little learning is a dangerous thing,
Then boast no more you mighty deeds.
Breath o’re my dying brain its last monotony!
Far from the maddening crowd’s ignoble strife,
By whispering winds soon lulled to sleep.
Poetry form: CENTO
Of the above Cento: “Great Minds …”
1. The Parting ~ Michael Drayton
2. What is Our Life ~ Sir Walter Raleigh
3. Sonnet to Chillon ~ Lord Byron
4. Sonnet LXX ~ Edmund Spenser
5. Ode to a Nightingale ~ John Keats
1. Tamburlaine ~ Christopher Marlowe
2. Sonnet LX ~ William Shakespeare
3. To Celia ~ Ben Jonson
4. Women’s Constancy ~ John Donne
5. The World ~ William Wordsworth
1. An essay on Criticism ~ Alexander Pope
2. The Glories of our blood and state ~ James Shirley
3. Stanzas: written in Dejection, near Naples ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley
4. Elegy written in a country Churchyard ~ Thomas Gray
5. L’Allegro ~ John Milton