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Recorded Reading (3:59): https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/c5x9vmaar842v65ru3vl0/The-Joy-of-Youth.m4a?rlkey=3djjot0dkaqdeugg90qdbbiny&dl=0

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In her younger years, when the Novato Renaissance Faire was still held in Black Point Forest, this poet was a yearly attendee.

Their Queen Elizabeth ~ a true woman of mystery and one of the only this poet has heard fully master the art of public metaphorical speech ~ got to know the poet rather well over those years. Fairegoers will understand that she has some good stories to tell!

It got to the point at which Court would actually come to a halt in its regular proceedings when the poet showed up, in her little peasant dress, with a piece of paper in her hand.

Of course, since money is involved in becoming a member of that Court, an easily bruised ego ~ one Sir John Packington ~ became alarmed at the poet’s imminence and began acting out, most comically.

Hearing that the Queen had been pleased by a piece of original counterpoint offered for her singing ladies, he not only managed to block its performance but substituted one of his own ~ during the utter cacaphony of which the Court hurdy-gurdy player, seated ‘neath a nearby tree, quietly slipped away.

At its close, the Queen sighed. “And where has our musician gone?” was her comment. “Poor fellow!”

One afternoon the poet walked up to court without a piece of paper, just in time to witness a “sonnet competition” between Sir John and an elder courtier, verbally jousting upon the subject of “Youth and Age.”

Sir Packington flourished an actually rather respectable poem, with the repeating theme “In Youth is Joy.” The elder courtier responded with a metrically accurate but rather insipid and very generalized love sonnet to his wife.

The poet did not think Sir John well or adequately rebutted ~ and offered her own response, to the accompaniment of the Court Ladies’ increasing tittering, upon her next visit.

The Queen made Sir John escort her forth, after the discreetly amused pause following her performance.

She gave her the rose she held.

“For your courage,” she said. “Would it were made of gold.”

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The “Joy of Youth“

In youth is joy, but age doth wrong redress,
For which youth hath its every joy to thank —
On age’s face doth nature lines impress
Harmon’ious lines! Youth’s visage is a blank

Wild youth doth all its energies abate
In prancing, stallion-like, about the field —
Its elder is content to rest and wait
And see what bounties patience’ fruits will yield

In love, our youths impassioned often be
And think that none their elder understand —
They would be startled youths could they but see
A woman under well exper’ienced hand!

Well may’st it strut, well may’st it preen and prance
The chiefest joy of youth — is ignorance!

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This poet is physically disabled.

Public housing being insufficient to her medical and creative needs, in order to continue working she is presently living in her minivan, publishing all of her works using one thumb on the touch screen of her smartphone and surviving at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level.

If her work has touched you, she would treasure any contribution you might be good enough to offer ~ http://www.UgiftABLE.com ● #72D-31S.

Please be aware that it takes several days for her to be notified of patronage. Thank you for caring.

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