A+Prescription

The Poem:

Sweet-tempered, pestering young man of Oxford juggling with ghazals, tercets, haikus, tankas, not to mention willanelles, terzanelles and rondelets; conversant with the phonetic kinships of rhyme, assonance and consonance; the four nuances of stress, the three junctions; forget now the skeltonic couplet, the heroic couplet, the split couplet, the poulter's measure; speak not of englyn penfyr, englyn milwr; but westward hasten to the rising, lonely ground between the evening rivers, the alder-gazing rivers, Mawddach and Dysynni.

Let it be dark when, alone, you climb the waful mountain so that you can count the stars. Ignore the giant shufflings behind you - put out that torch! - the far intermittent cries of the nocturnal brids - if birds they are - their small screams of torture. Instead, scholar as you are, remark the old proverb how the one who ascends Cadair Idris at night comes bak in dawn's light lately mad or a great poet. Mwanwhile, I'll wait here in this dull room of unrine- flask, weighing-machine examination-couch, X-ray screen, for your return (triumphant or bizarre) patiently.