Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Who does not love the spring deserves no lovers

I take my title from the South African poet Roy Campbell (1901–1957), who knew a thing or two about lovers and haters. It’s from Georgian Spring, in which Campbell lampooned his fellow poets for their cosy triteness: New quarterlies relume their yellow covers, Anthologies on every bookshelf sing. The publishers put on their best apparel To sell the public everything…

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