The erudite Hannibal Taubes has taken time out from his intrepid explorations of Chinese village temples to alert me to the fine subject index of A Stuffed owl: an anthology of bad verse, edited by D.B. Wyndham Lewis and Charles Lee (1930).
It’s a fine collection anyway, from which few major British poets are exempt:
He suddenly dropt dead of heart-disease—Tennyson
Forgive my transports on a theme like this
I cannot bear a French metropolis—Johnson
Salubrious hinds the festive dance explore—John Nichols
This piteous news so much it shocked her
She quite forgot to send the doctor—Wordsworth
If there is no such anthology for Tang poetry, then someone should compile one forthwith.
Beethoven, light thrown on his ancestry, xv; his shaky octave-playing, 6
Byron, believed to be a poet, 235; his low character, 236; his career sketched in a few bold strokes 236–7
England, small but well-known, 200; emphatically undegenerate, 202
Italy, not recommended to tourists, 125; examples of what goes on there, 204, 219, 221
Liverpool, rapture experienced at, 196