MA (7th February / Lagos, Nigeria)

A Home In The Midst Of Tattlers, Snitch And Busybodies

A convergence, this same sect in hasty errands and as birds
Hasten to their camaraderie and tale,
The focus is the home, where their binocular set
Stakeholders, who with visible intents and glares feign alliance,
Trapped in their covens, a ready coven for their reject
Unworthy of their affections, unfit for their own home,
Set on my path for filial, and to this hole I assayed
Hoping to wean her for my master, a high hope for her verbal declaration
“I am a Christian”
And so I thought, Until Christianity rejected Humility,
So I thought, until Christianity became a brawler,
So, I thought, until Christianity became a nagger
Sobriety was amiss, pride and arrogance ekes and burnt
A madness too many and the sect seats in darkness in phony analysis
Hello! Did you hear? Have you heard? Tattling and snitching
And as players on the fields, she announces her victory and vanquishes
Preferring her allegiance to this alliance, to the fabrics of the home,
And these, spent their energies in nocturnal concaves desiring to teach instructions
From their vain philosophical jangling
These, who assumed knowledge by rebellion,
These whose pride is in empty books of men,
These whose ambition is about here,
These dilemma this

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Robert Frost

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Comments (1)

A well written poem, Macaulay. Thanks for sharing