The Prurient Tapirs of Weldon Kees

(He speaks also of Asthmatic Bulldogs but they need a poem to themselves.)

Prurient tapirs graced our lawns,

Many years ago.

They leapt like lucky leprechauns,

They flounced and bounced about our lawns,

While furtive, phantom flugelhorns,

Lamented, sweet and low.

In steamy, dreamy, dewy dawns,

They gambolled to and fro.

I shut my eyes, I see them still

Cavorting up and down

Through dandelion and daffodil

Those tapirs dancing, dancing still

On every dale and every hill,

Through every shanty town,

Sashaying with exquisite skill,

As light as thistledown.

Memorious, magnificent

Reflections of romance,

Those pert Perissodactyls went,

Memorious, magnificent,

Through Sussex and the Weald of Kent

Across the sea to France

But what they were, and what was meant

By their perspicuous dance,

I do not know, I cannot say,

I cannot even think.

Alackaday! A roundelay!

I do not know, I cannot say

What made them pirouette and sway,

What made them jog and jink,

Those odd-toed ungulates at play

That vanished in a blink.

John Whitworth