A Poem I Didn't Write

Worst thing about a school year based on quarters: It's March, and I'm in the midst of finals.

Compounding that misery, it's been in the 50s and 60s consistently the last couple weeks, and as a former New Englander I feel like I ought to be out making the most of it (especially since most of my spring break will be spent back in the 35-degree snowiness of yore).

So to aid in my procrastination (hey, I'm more than halfway through the 48 pages I will have turned in by Friday), I present you with a poem that I did not write, but which I love. (Please don't tell Mr. Larkin, as I don't have permission, but it's too great not to share.)

"Water"

If I were called in
To construct a religion
I should make use of water.

Going to church
Would entail a fording
To dry, different clothes;

My litany would employ
Images of sousing,
A furious devout drench,

And I should raise in the east
A glass of water
Where any-angled light
Would congregate endlessly.

-- Philip Larkin