TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // The Cat Metamorphosed Into A Woman. by Jean de La Fontaine

A bachelor caress’d his cat,
A darling, fair, and delicate;
So deep in love, he thought her mew
The sweetest voice he ever knew.
By prayers, and tears, and magic art,
The man got Fate to take his part;
And, lo! one morning at his side
His cat, transform’d, became his bride.
In wedded state our man was seen
The fool in courtship he had been.
No lover e’er was so bewitch’d
By any maiden’s charms
As was this husband, so enrich’d
By hers within his arms.
He praised her beauties, this and that,
And saw there nothing of the cat.
In short, by passion’s aid, he
Thought her a perfect lady.

‘Twas night: some carpet-gnawing mice
Disturb’d the nuptial joys.
Excited by the noise,
The bride sprang at them in a trice;
The mice were scared and fled.
The bride, scarce in her bed,
The gnawing heard, and sprang again, –
And this time not in vain,
For, in this novel form array’d,
Of her the mice were less afraid.
Through life she loved this mousing course,
So great is stubborn nature’s force.

In mockery of change, the old
Will keep their youthful bent.
When once the cloth has got its fold,
The smelling-pot its scent,
In vain your efforts and your care
To make them other than they are.
To work reform, do what you will,
Old habit will be habit still.
Nor fork nor strap can mend its manners,
Nor cudgel-blows beat down its banners.
Secure the doors against the renter,
And through the windows it will enter.

 

by JEAN DE LA FONTAINE (1621-1695)
Public Domain Poetry

the strand (lost paradise lament)

seraph, a man in a grain of sand
how far you have fallen
all trace of you got swept beneath
the sea of time, your alleged crime

you tried to pay your respects
to the last breath, but lies still lie and
fidelity has long left the stage
he’s gone, never to pass this way again

you bear the echo of all that was
with the weight of a dead crown
are these the days of clarity
in the sea of time, a bitter wine

lilies grow amongst the skulls now
the aftermath of your unseen war
have you not seen through the tears
you, the unreconstructed man

silence, and dark tranquillity
morning star, you blanch at the dawn
parlay at the speed of trust’s decay
this sea of time, the mere sublime

grief has frozen you to the shoreline
the pain of you reaches into a lie
verging on hope, though god knows why
a quiet smoke seeking ascension’s sigh

who will come for you now
who will comfort you, bury you

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018