A Maypole

Deprived of root, and branch and rind,
Yet flowers I bear of every kind:
And such is my prolific power,
They bloom in less than half an hour;
Yet standers-by may plainly see
They get no nourishment from me.
My head with giddiness goes round,
And yet I firmly stand my ground:
All over naked I am seen,
And painted like an Indian queen.
No couple-beggar in the land
E'er joined such numbers hand in hand.
I joined them fairly with a ring;
Nor can our parson blame the thing.
And though no marriage words are spoke,
They part not till the ring is broke;
Yet hypocrite fanatics cry,
I'm but an idol raised on high;
And once a weaver in our town,
A damned Cromwellian, knocked me down.
I lay a prisoner twenty years,
And then the jovial cavaliers
To their old post restored all three -
I mean the church, the king, and me.

by Jonathan Swift

Comments (23)

One of the best poems by Jonathan Swift........
Love the poetic language of yours. Beautifully constructed. A nice choice of the Poemhunter.com and mine too! Thanks for sharing.
I lay a prisoner twenty years, And then the jovial cavaliers To their old post restored all three - I mean the church, the king, and me.
A decorated pole with flowers and beauty is very nice and attractive. When hypocrite fanatics cry this scribble mind and we think for love, peace and unity to overcome such hypocrite fanatics. Church giving biblical knowledge guides in tight way to lead a peaceful life.
An amazing poem penned by a great poet and critique. It is enchanting and a pleasure to read. A great classical poem..
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