CARDIGAN'S CARDIGAN!
A 'cardigan', not 'haute couture',
Is a pretty dowdy thing for sure;
It droops, it drags, it swathes around the body.
Associated with lack of style,
Making 'Saint Laurent' run a mile.
As a fashion-statement, it is rather shoddy.
*
You wouldn't think it a 'tour de force'
Of the gent above riding on his horse,
And yet, in fact, he was the instigator!
You've heard of The Charge of the Light Brigade?
The Earl of Cardigan led the raid
And he was the very first cardigan creator!
*
The Earl himself was rather a 'rotter',
Well-known for being a 'copybook' blotter!
Divorced, as well, a scandal in his time.
While his second wife lay dying,
He didn't waste his time on crying;
He found another lady! Quite a crime!
*
The 'Charge' itself was an awful rout.
They scarcely knew what they were about,
And Cardigan, himself, just fled the field!
A third of his men were killed outright
And all the rest were put to flight
So, in the end, the British had to yield.
*
But Cardigan's name has long survived!
He found the Crimea, when he arrived,
Bitterly cold! He really couldn't hack it!
So all his soldiers had to wear
An addition to their underwear;
This was a sort of furry, sleeveless jacket.
*
The idea caught on, would you believe!
The ladies added in the sleeve,
They knitted various copies with a passion,
They kept on saying all the while
'I want a jacket Cardigan-style!'
And cardigans became the latest fashion.
*
So, though Lord Cardigan was a rogue,
His name has ended up in 'Vogue',
At least in all the silk-embroidered versions.
And all, from the poised to the fool-hardy
Sport at least one comfy 'cardie',
So don't let me hear you casting your aspersions!
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SILVER IN SPRING
A silver birch,
Queen of Trees.
So delicate
One wonders if it can bear
The heaviness of snow
That has fallen on its branches!
*
So stark, you've been.
So fragile, so colourless,
Throughout winter.
Your silver has faded
Into the background music.
The white of snow,
The weight of snow
Has overwhelmed your silver
With brilliance.
You have seemed grey.
*
Yet not just grey;
You have seemed wispy, untidy, bedraggled
And shapeless.
The pines have dominated you.
*
Yesterday we perceived green.
It was not really seeing.
When we tried to focus
The colour faded.
Had we really seen it?
*
It could have been a mirage
In the desert.
But this is no desert.
*
Today we see reality.
The shoots are real,
Tiny tendrils reaching upward.
The leaves are real,
Little plates ready to receive
The meal;
The meal of heat, sun, splendour.
*
Tomorrow you will be a tree,
Full of green,
Etched against the blue.
Your silver will sparkle.
*
You will take your place as
Queen of Trees.
*
