Today's poem

It takes a longer time for me to grasp the whole scene of the free verse on his recollection with an unfamiliar title: an Italian dance. The elegiac poem is a sort of Q&A style: the first stanza is question; and the second is answer thereto. I am surprised that the poem has been read by children. Once imagining a typical rural inn with a bar at the first floor and an accommodation at the second in Spain, it is able to illustrate such revelry in the bar. Repetitional lines "Do you remember an Inn, Miranda? / Do you remember an Inn?" have a hypnotic effect. After the second refrain of the lines, the wild carousal comes to a climax. In the second stanza, at last, it is revealed that it is his lost, nostalgic reminiscence with an inscrutable woman Miranda. Next I would like to choose and read one poem of his famous Cautionary Tales for Children.

     Tarantella by Hilaire Belloc
   
     Do you remember an Inn,
     Miranda?
     Do you remember an Inn?
     And the tedding and the spreading
     Of the straw for a bedding,
     And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
     And the wine that tasted of the tar?
     And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
     (Under the vine of the dark verandah)?
     Do you remember an Inn, Miranda,
     Do you remember an Inn?
     And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
     Who hadn't got a penny,
     And who weren't paying any,
     And the hammer at the doors and the Din?
     And the Hip! Hop! Hap!
     Of the clap
     Of the hands to the twirl and the swirl
     Of the girl gone chancing,
     Glancing,
     Dancing,
     Backing and advancing,
     Snapping of a clapper to the spin
     Out and in -
     And the Ting, Tong, Tang of the Guitar
     Do you remember an Inn,
     Miranda?
     Do you remember an Inn?

          Never more;
          Miranda,
          Never more,
          Only the high peaks hoar:
          And Aragon a torrent at the door.
          No sound
          In the walls of the Halls where falls
          The tread
          Of the feet of the dead to the ground
          No sound:
          But the boom
          Of the far Waterfall like Doom.