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Showing posts with label poets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poets. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Hoity-toity!

So many charities write to me lately.  It is sensible to make donations now, if you  are ever going to, because you can take it off your income tax.  It's tough to decide which worthy institutions to support.  The Salvation Army is a no-brainer.  So are the Delaware Symphony and the Delaware Art Museum.  WRTI, which I listen to all the time.  Second Harvest.  Doctors without Borders.  All of these can be sure of a check.

Then there are those which set off alarms.  Boys'Town?  I don't think they need me.  Likewise the American Red Cross.

Today I got a solicitation  which caused me no hesitation at all.  Last Summer I visited the Edna St Vincent Millay Society, which has taken over and is preserving the home of, guess who?  Not to keep you in suspense, it is Edna St Vincent Millay, she of the candle that burns at both ends and other soppy poetry.  As a general rule,  the poetry of authors who use three names is seldom first-rate.  But I digress.

We took the tour, which certainly revealed some insight into the lady.  Edna was an interesting woman, a beauty who married a rich man but did not let this stand in the way of  taking many lovers. If the husband could live with this, it didn't bother me.  She wanted things her own way, and more or less got them.  No-one could disturb  the order of the books in her study, for instance.

The most interesting thing I took away from the tour, however, was that she instructed the servants not to speak to her (or her husband) without being spoken to first.   I wonder whether they had to tug their forelocks when responding to her, or whether a dignified bow would do?

Somehow I don't quite feel like donating to the upkeep of her home.  I'll stick to the Salvation Army.

Friday, April 18, 2008

A poet's muse has died

Miss Joan Hunter Dunn has died at 92.

Joan Jackson, who died on April 11 aged 92, was in her earlier life Joan Hunter Dunn, the inspiration for Sir John Betjeman's most popular poem, A Subaltern's Love-song, ...- and conjured up his reverie about them being affianced and playing tennis together:

What strenuous singles we played after tea,

We in the tournament - you against me!

Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy,

The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,

With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won,

I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn.

Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,

How mad I am, sad I am, glad that you've won,

The warm-handled racket is back in its press,

But my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.