Miniver Cheevy and goldenage thinking.

Discussing the poem Miniver Cheevy by Edward Arlington Robinson. Here is the Poem: Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn grew lean while he assailed the seasons he wept that he was ever born and he had reasons Miniver loved the days of old when swords were bright and steeds were prancing the vision of a warrior bold would set him dancing miniver sighed for what was not and dreamed, and rested from his labours he dreamed of Thebes and Camelot and Priam's neighbours Miniver mourned the ripe renown that made so many a name fragrant He mourned romance, now on the town and art, a vagrant. Miniver loved the medici Albiet he had never seen one he would have sinned incessantly could he have been one Miniver cursed the commonplace and eyed a khaki suit with loathing he missed the medieval grace of iron clothing Miniver scorned the gold he sought but sore annoyed was he without it miniver thought, and thought, and thought and thought about it Miniver Cheevy, born too late scratched his head and kept on thinking Miniver coughed, and called it fate, and kept on drinking.