English Poetry, Thursday period 1

[nuclear_snide]

Class today, as per Anakin, was being held virtually. Which meant that Fosse was in Bob's office running the computer for him, in between bickering about the relative merits of Ragtime versus Big Fish.

"Oh, never mind. Is this thing on now?" Bob squinted at it. "This week's supposed to be introductions, but half of you aren't here, and I don't really want to be teaching this anyway, so -"

Fosse cleared his throat. Bob glowered. "Oh, fine, let's do a poem."

He wrote the title in the air and Fosse sent the text to the students.

At the Sea-Side
Robert Louis Stevenson

When I was down beside the sea
A wooden spade they gave to me
To dig the sandy shore.

My holes were empty like a cup.
In every hole the sea came up,
Till it could come no more.

"Right. So, is this meant to be happy or sad, a comment on the ephemeral nature of sand or the tenacity of water, or did whoever chose this one just think a poem about holes was on topic?" Bob rolled his eyes. "Discuss."

Comments

OOC

[nuclear_snide]

But the first person to say they're being taught by Bob Fosse fails; Anakin said he could!