A LATE AUBADE

You could be sitting now in a carrel
turning some liver spotted page
or rising in an elevator - cage
toward ladies' apparel

you coud be planting a raucous bed
of silvia, in rubber gloves,
or lunching through a screed of someone 's loves
with pitying head,

or making some unhappy setter
heel, or listening to a bleak
lecture on schoenberg's serial technique.
isn't this better?

think of all the time you are not
wasting, and would not care  to waste
such things, thank God, not being to your taste,
think what a lot.

of time , by woman's reckoning,
you've saved, and so may spend on this ,
you who had rather lie in bed and kiss
than anything.

it's almost noon , you say? if so,
time flies , and i need not rehearse
the rosebuds - theme of countries of verse.
if you must go,

wait for a while , then slip downstairs
and bring us up some chilled white wine,
and some blue cheese, and crackers, and some fine
Ruddy-skinned pears
                                                 (richard wibur : B. 1921 )