Cavalier Poets.
Originally Posted 3/29/2009.
There are pros and cons to taking British Literature courses.
Cons
British Literature
British writers
Pompous words
Words I’ve never even seen before
Pros
Multiple opportunities to make fun of “the classics”
Hilarious words that have different meanings now
Rampant sexual innuendo
There’s one poem in particular that encompasses all of the items on the “pros” list. (I have included commentary for all the non-English majors so you can actually understand what the fuck this dude’s talking about.)
The Vine by Robert Herrick
I dream’d this mortal part of mine (his dick)
Was metamorphos’d to a vine; (his dick became a vine)
Which crawling one and every way, (his dick the vine is growing and wriggling around)
Enthrall’d my dainty Lucia. (his dick the vine found his lover)
Me thought, her long small legs & thighs (his dick the vine likes her lovely lady lumps)
I with my tendrils did surprise; (his dick the vine, more specifically, the tendrils of his dick the vine went “SURPRISE VINESECKS!!”)
Her belly, buttocks, and her waist, (see above)
By my soft nerv’lets were embrac’d: (his dick the vine is wrapping around her)
About her head I writhing hung,
And with rich clusters (hid among
The Leaves) her temples I behung: (his dick the vine is now around her head, apparently)
So that my Lucia seem’d to me
Young Bacchus ravish’d by his tree. (his dick the vine references mythology or some shit)
My curls about her neck did crawl,
And arms and hands they did entrall:
So that she could not freely stir,
(All her parts there made one prisoner). (his dick the vine wrapped around her completely)
But when I crept with leaves to hide
Those parts, which maids kept unespied, (her pussy)
Such fleeting pleasures there I took, (his ‘leaves,’ technically still his dick the vine are pleasuring his lady)
That with the fancy I awook; (he wakes up)
And found (Ah me!) this flesh of mine
More like a stock, than like a vine. (morning wood)
Okay, not for anything, but I’d just like to see how many people on the internet appreciate this comment, because NO ONE in my British literature class did.
These lines:
But when I crept with leaves to hide
Those parts, which maids kept unespied,
Such fleeting pleasures there I took,
I bet she was really glad he didn’t become a cactus, huh?
You ponder that for a minute while I go and get a soda.
