“With dawn pinking
the eastern sky
and the early bird chirping over its early worm …”
-- P.G.
Wodehouse, Service with a Smile (1961)
That status of that passage is rather fraught.
It is not truly Found Poetry;
for, though it appeared originally in straight prose, and though it is
(if you like) rather poetic, it was never intended as unselfconscious
prose-poetry: rather, it was a burlesque of such language in a purely
comic context. And yet -- Its
utterance (on the lips of that irresponsible/irrepressible way, Uncle Fred) --
does remind us, somehow, of the sweetness of such visions, even so expressed,
before jadedness and taedium vitae set
in …
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