Ah, did you once see Shelley plain,
 And did he stop and speak to you?
 And did you speak to him again?
 How strange it seems, and new!

 But you were living before that,
 And you are living after,
 And the memory I started at--
 My starting moves your laughter!

 I crossed a moor, with a name of its own
 And a certain use in the world no doubt,
 Yet a hand's-breadth of it shines alone
 'Mid the blank miles round about:

 For there I picked up on the heather
 And there I put inside my breast
 A moulted feather, an eagle-feather--
 Well, I forget the rest.

Many thanks to Divya Sampath for suggesting this poem:

Percy Shelley’s been getting a fair bit of coverage on the Minstrels lately¹, so it comes as a bit of a relief to know that I’m not alone in disliking his verse².

Actually, I can’t name too many parodies written by well-known poets³ - this is a pretty rare example of one. Maybe the originality that is the mark of any great poet prevents him (or her) from ever writing a true parody… I don’t know.

Be that as it may, I think Browning does an excellent job of capturing the exact tone of voice and style of imagery used by the Romantics… indeed, I must confess that this poem (especially the last stanza) had me laughing out loud.

thomas.
(still grinning)