Corrections to the blogosphere, the consensus, and the world

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Amis poem, again

To find his sexual drives had ceased
For Sophocles was no disaster;
He said he felt like one released
From service with a cruel master.

I envy him – I miss the lash
At which I used to snort and snivel;
Oh that its unremitted slash
Were still what makes me drone and drivel!


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