In Defence of Poetry

Older than we are by however many ages,
it doesn’t need defending against anything.
No more do air or fire, earth or water.
Not even in our empty times. Neglected, it will
go underground, or into interstellar space.

Until out of the blue someone calls it up,
like the Greek who cut my hair last week.
Where was he from? ‘Spar-ta,’ he said.
‘You are a Spartan!’ I exclaimed. ‘Oh no,’
he said, ‘there are no Spartans anymore.’

Andrew McNeillie, TLS, August 16 2002