Wasp

Pretty little thing, said Mrs.Moore
Who was alone with it in her room
And its brown buzz was plainsong.

This one flew in my room yesterday.
I feared the poor thing might sting
And stop being my poetry for ever.

(referring to Mrs.Moore’s encounter with the wasp in E.M.Forster’s A Passage to India)

Advertisements
This entry was posted in poems and tagged .

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s