Hatchet Job

A hatchet job by a well-known author on a book or poem by another well-known writer

You wandered like ‘a cloud’ you say

Aye, cloud you say,

As though a cloud could stroll and stray

Or yonder flee at will.

In Wessex, motionless, the cloud

Clings grimly to the hilltops proud

And, sombre as a corpse’s shroud,

Stays days, forever still.

And then you see below your hills,

Below your hills,

A host of dancing daffodils –

Absurd beyond belief!

Give me those tracks where no one goes

And naught but withered grassland grows

On hillsides where a chill wind blows

And pleasure dwells in grief.