My parents made loads of mistakes and I don't think they are perfect, but they were good parents who loved us. This be the verse you grave for me: Interesting post on a favorite poem. I enjoyed your account of this poem, I think the poetry is fabulous. Topics Health, mind and body The Observer. And even if you are diligent, you will not be rewarded by the tacky pleasures of a magazine questionnaire that classes you as sensitive and shy, or tells you if your husband is having an affair.
But they were fucked up in their turn By fools in old-style hats and coats, Who half the time were soppy-stern And half at one another's throats.
To feel that we have suffered is the easy route to feeling we are somehow heroic. The famous opening line of the poem seems straightforward enough, though we might analyse over-analyse? Unless your parents have been out and out abusive, I think part of growing up is accepting the mistakes they might have made and forgiving them. Share it with your friends: Morag - I've known this poem for years, but I've only just noticed where the title comes from. But they were fucked up in their turn By fools in old-style hats and coats, Who half the time were soppy-stern And half at one another's throats.