On Hearing Delius
By: By Stephen Rifkin - Jul 09, 2016
When the garden is scattered,
And under the raw wind, without hue, tint, or color,
The great sun gleams in the greater sky.
Death is the bloke, on all fronts,
Always our Hitler,
And youth shall be France, or Britain, and America,
Imagine Dover, St. Paul’s, Bloomsbury,
And when you visit, light a fat cigar.
Say, we shall never surrender.