bootbath

Updated: May 23, 2025

Dear Viscount, in whose ancient blood The blueness of the bird of March, The vermeil of the tufted larch, Are fused in one magenta flood. So on the last sad night of all Erect among the reeling rout You beat your tangled music out Lofty, aloof, viscontial. You struck a bootbath with a can, And with the can you struck the bath, There on the yellow gravel path, As gentleman to gentleman.

Margot Asquith - Margot Asquith, an Autobiography - Two Volumes in One