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Slapp Happy

The Unborn Byron

Byron as an embryo,
behold the unborn Byron grow.
His budding brain grows ears and eyes.
Soon he swells to twice his size.
He drinks in with his mother's blood
a subtle, philosophic food
distilled from that good woman's sense
a strong poetic influence.
She calls him and he answers back,
from the amniotic sac: (he says)
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'Spread the word, tomorrow morn
a future poet shall be born.
From my mother I shall fall
into the womb that holds us all.
My life shall be a meteor
which generations shall adore.
For my unbuttoned liberty
the unborn will remember me.'