Im-proving Week 2

Epi­taph On A Tyrant
W.H. Auden

Per­fec­tion, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to under­stand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly inter­ested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable sen­a­tors burst with laugh­ter,
And when he cried the lit­tle chil­dren died in the streets.

Improv


Fortify, the ranks, of the little hallways.
And notice each detail of the delinquent adolescent;
we know each pass and prank like the back of the stall,
and we are greatly interested in behavior and attitude;
Respectable children laugh, our jokes are not funny,
And when we cry only the delinquents notice.