| Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869–1935). Collected Poems. 1921. |
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| V. The Town Down the River |
| 23. Miniver Cheevy |
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| MINIVER CHEEVY, child of scorn, | |
| Grew lean while he assailed the seasons; | |
| He wept that he was ever born, | |
| And he had reasons. | |
| |
| Miniver loved the days of old | 5 |
| When swords were bright and steeds were prancing; | |
| The vision of a warrior bold | |
| Would set him dancing. | |
| |
| Miniver sighed for what was not, | |
| And dreamed, and rested from his labors; | 10 |
| He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot, | |
| And Priam’s neighbors. | |
| |
| Miniver mourned the ripe renown | |
| That made so many a name so fragrant; | |
| He mourned Romance, now on the town, | 15 |
| And Art, a vagrant. | |
| |
| Miniver loved the Medici, | |
| Albeit he had never seen one; | |
| He would have sinned incessantly | |
| Could he have been one. | 20 |
| |
| Miniver cursed the commonplace | |
| And eyed a khaki suit with loathing; | |
| He missed the mediaeval grace | |
| Of iron clothing. | |
| |
| Miniver scorned the gold he sought, | 25 |
| But sore annoyed was he without it; | |
| Miniver thought, and thought, and thought, | |
| And thought about it. | |
| |
| Miniver Cheevy, born too late, | |
| Scratched his head and kept on thinking; | 30 |
| Miniver coughed, and called it fate, | |
| And kept on drinking. | |
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