Sample poetry assignment


Reinterpreting Virtue: Retelling “Song 4” from Ben Jonson’s “Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue” by Laura Milette (2011).
           
An eye of looking back were well,
                                                Or any murmur that would tell
                                                The truth that Virtue faced
                                                            And lost,
                                    Thousands of men at such high cost

                                    Young, proud, and blind we train to be
                                                Virtuous, we stand on guard for thee,
                                                In death’s dark shadow we doubt
                                                            your Majesty,
                                    Whose words once soft, now bullets be.

                                    Line trenches for the cattle call
                                                Attack, stay low, prey do not fall
                                                When clear shots ring from
                                                            Nature’s wall
                                    At Vimy Ridge.

                                                You must return unto the hill,
                                                            And continue advance
                                                With labour, and inhabit still
                                                            That Height and crown
                                                From whence you hope to look down
                                                            Depends on triumphed Chance.
                                   

Three days offensive battle led,
                                                Innocence and humanity tactically forced to bed,
                                                Virtue called our bluff in dead.

                        Beware,
She will claim you as her own
                                    Flee, run fast, this lie is your tomb,
                                    Reality’s medal on your tunic sewn,
                                               
All to become a man?  

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