The Lesser Arts

Have nothing in your houses that you
do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.
William Morris 1882

My mind's eye fills with flowers, books,
Turkish rugs on polished floorboards,
lean chairs soft with flowered cushions:
spare treasures tastefully arranged
as in English House and Garden.

I look around me, see my desk
piled with drafts, unanswered letters,
the kitched full of last night's dishes,
tattered rugs, cats and dogs,
a mustard pot of dusty feathers.

No Red House or Kelmscott this,
but Anti-Scrape in extremis.
And I, not young in dainty raiment,
didn't catch the News From Nowhere
but watched Time steal The Commonweal.

Ah William, my youth's guide and mentor,
(Socialism ... Art and Labour. )
your stern edict would preclude now
most things from my shabby house;
alas, including me.

First published in Resurgence.

© Robyn Mathison