posted on 2024-04-05, 12:49authored byFirst World War Poetry Digital Archive Project Team
<p dir="ltr"> Old Mr. Philosopher<br> Comes for Ben and Claire,<br> An ugly man, a tall man,<br> With bright-red hair.<br> The books that he's written<br> No one can read.<br> 'In fifty years they'll understand:<br> Now there's no need.<br> 'All that matters now<br> Is getting the fun.<br> Come along, Ben and Claire;<br> Plenty to be done.'<br> Then old Philosopher,<br> Wisest man alive,<br> Plays at Lions and Tigers<br> Down along the drive---<br> Gambolling fiercely<br> Through bushes and grass,<br> Making monstrous mouths,<br> Braying like an ass,<br> Twisting buttercups<br> In his orange hair,<br> Hopping like a kangaroo,<br> Growling like a bear.<br> Right up to tea-time<br> They frolic there.<br> 'My legs are wingle,'<br> Says Ben to Claire.</p>