Happy Birthday Hilaire Belloc!

Here are a couple of my favorite poems by Hilaire Belloc in honor of his 138th Birthday. But mostly I just wanted to add another number to the "poetry" label to make it seem like we're pretty cultured.

Sonnet XXXI

The world’s a stage. The trifling entrance fee

Is paid (by proxy) to the registrar,

The Orchestra is very loud and free

But plays no music in particular.

They do not print a programme, that I know.

The caste is large. There isn’t any plot.

The acting of the piece is far below

The very worst of modernistic rot.

The only part about it I enjoy

Is what was called in English the Foyay.

There will I stand apart awhile and toy

With thought, and set my cigarette alight;

And then—without returning to the play—

On with my coat and out into the night.

The Early Morning

The moon on the one hand, the dawn on the other:

The moon is my sister, the dawn is my brother.

The moon on my left and the dawn on my right.

My brother, good morning: my sister, good night.