Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LYING SPYING, by LAURA RIDING


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LYING SPYING, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: (lying spying what men say of dead men
Last Line: Not a thing to tell each other.
Alternate Author Name(s): Jackson, Laura Riding
Subject(s): Spring


Lying spying what men say of dead men,
What men say of me --
I can't remember anything.
Why can't I remember
What alive I knew of death
I dead know nothing of?
"John was a man of trouble,
Suffered life like a dear disease,
Cowered before cures that might be death --"

(Hush, death is the word!)

"Love was a light headache,
Just the right headache for his condition --"

(Oh love, love, love, love. . . . . .)

"God He refused as antitoxin and medicinal,
Poor John, John, John, John, John, . . . . . .
Said the parson as he perched
On the sharp left discomfort
Of John Jacob's tombstone --
John, John, John, John, John.

Cobbler on the right
Counted out the memory
Of the nails of John's soles.
Mercer in the middle
Remembered the measure
Of John's extravagant shroud.

But no further the parson the cobler the mercer
Lying spying
In the graveyard
Where night fell deeper darker,
Dead men mumbled, might be mumbling,
Something secret about life.

Lying spying
John and John and,
Parson, cobbler, mercer, parson,
Owls and carrion crows and ghouls
And little larks and daylight fools.

Damned dishonorable honorables
That won't be spying on yourselves,
Will you never never, never,
Get up, get up,
And find yourselves and all the selves,
All together, all together,
Not a thing to tell each other.





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