Dead Poets Choir--A Cento

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(As stated in the subtitle, this poem is a "cento" (comprised of lines from sundry classic poems). The lines are derived from poems by Thoreau, Chaucer, Milton, Anne Bradstreet, Shakespeare, Homer, Wordsworth, Dickinson, Whitman, Poe, Emily Dickinson, Ferlinghetti, Longfellow, Lewis Carroll, William Topaz McGonagall, T.S.Eliot, Sir Walter Raleigh, G.Stein )

O ye dead Poets, who are living still Within the circuit of this plodding life For truly this game is well begun Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot My foolish, broken, blemished Muse so sings HARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings May Jove restore you when your toils are o'er I wandered lonely as a cloud SPLENDOR of ended day, floating and filling me! Is the end of my song Then give them all the lie Lo! Death has reared himself a throne How dreary to be somebody! Constantly risking absurdity and death Wrapt in the old miasmal mist. Life, what is it but a dream? We like a fog

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