Literary The Monday Poem: Arcadia Arcadia By H. P. Lovecraft By Head Balledup O give me the life of the village, Uninhibited, free, and sweet; The place where the arts all flourish, Grove Court and Christopher Street. I am sick of the old conventions, And critics who will not praise, So sing ho for the open spaces, And aesthetes with kindly ways. Here every bard is a genius, And artists are Raphaels, And above the roofs of Patchin Place The Muse of Talent dwells. Share this: Share on X (Opens in new window) X Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Print (Opens in new window) Print Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket Share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram Share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Like Loading... Related