Milton Usurped

29 January 2019

https://poems.culturing.net/2019/01/milton-usurped/

But what is to be made of Milton’s hearse?
One victim of the newborn myth of books,
he dreamed of glory. Can he still be true?
We did not get to Paradise in time,
and listen, John, it’s over, that whole thing,
but we can still be friends. We set you free,
though some would have you bound and gagged,
for you are fertile soil.

It is time for growths
not tethered to the sturdy oaks,
and you know how this works.

And so the burnished throne, bleached white,
is smothered by new vines,

And O! Alas! rest easy, friend,
for we no longer gnash the teeth.