The Lie by Sir Walter Raleigh is one of my favourite poems, probably because it's very simple in its versification and rhyme. It's an angry, bitter diatribe against the venality, hypocrisy and shallowness of those who rule - and it's always interesting to read the words of those who don't share my mildness and passivity.
I believe Walt wrote it while awaiting execution in the Tower of London, which no doubt jaundiced his view of life somewhat. He had been an adventurer all his life, a bit of a chancer really, who had finally overreached himself by promising to bring boatloads of gold back from 'El Dorado', and failing to do so. Nowadays, he would merely have been sacked, or appointed to the House of Lords. Back then he lost his head, after 15 (?) years of imprisonment.
The poem is so different from Achilles in Love by Stephen Dunn, a dense and allusive poem which I read in The Times yesterday. Should you need a commentary in order to appreciate a poem? Is poetry a minority pursuit?
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