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Naturally the Foundation will Bear your Expense
by
Philip Larkin
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Hurrying to catch my Comet One dark November day, Which soon would snatch me from it To the sunshine of Bombay, I pondered pages of Berkeley Not three weeks since had heard, Perceiving Chatto darkly Through the mirror of the Third. Crowds, colourless and careworn, Had made my taxi late, Yet not till I was airborne Did I recall the date- That day when Queen and Minister And Band of Guards and all Still act their solemn-sinister Wreath-rubbish in Whitehall. It used to make me throw up, These mawkish nursery games: O when will England grow up? -But will I outsoar the Thames, And dwindle off down Auster To greet Professor Lal (He once met Morgan Forster), My contact and my pal.
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