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of Christopher Whitby |
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| Making Out Sometimes I think I got it all wrong. Not Just a turning missed, a fork to the right Instead of left, but a start all to pot, Back to front, upside down, inside out, quite Hopelessly muddled, off on the wrong foot, Stumbling head over heels, arse about face, All fingers and thumbs, both feet somehow put Down the same trouser leg, an utter disgrace. But then the point of balance need not lie Dead centre for a movement to run true And goals are just an attitude of mind. So in eccentric travel I may try The better part of what there is to do And more than those who never look behind. |
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| For Elizabeth If all the world's a stage, then be the fool And speak your mind, without offence, to all, Whatever parts they play. And in the school Of wit find wisdom and the verve to call To strict account whatever seems to bear No sense, or right, or goodness in its heart. Life has its luck. The trick is not to care How much or little Fortune holds your part, But taking all with equal thanks and grace, In looking sideways at the world's affairs, Reveal the truths that lie behind the face And light the dark that coats us unawares. So, motley minded and obliquely just, Be yet a touchstone in whom all may trust. For Elizabeth's christening 6/01/02. Set to music (SATB) by her mother, Eleanor Graff-Baker |
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