Competition No. 4150
A bawdy poem attributed to John Milton has been discovered. We’d like newly discovered works by other poets that would make us revise our ideas of that poet.
I wandered lonely as a cloud,
And thought that it was such a shame
I wasn’t standing in a crowd
Where I could watch a football game.
So I trudged on for hours and hours,
And all I saw were dreary flowers.
It was enough to make me weep;
My shoes were tight; my feet were sore;
No company but bleating sheep,
The countryside is such a bore.
Drenched to the skin by frequent showers,
I gladly trampled on the flowers.
And now, when on my couch I lie,
In this dull vale where I was born,
I seldom think of hills or sky
- I’d sooner read a bit of porn,
Or take a trip to Alton Towers;
Oh how I hate all bloody flowers!