An Incident of Oxford Compilation
by Michael Doyle

In my mind gathered so silently
I pray against evil so vigilantly
In the darkness of a blind alley
Lost among the madmen in the gallery

Though words come at me named
Language itself will not be tamed
It grows faster then it can be known
The gallantry of those in pursuit has been shown

Abject defeat knows a linguist's fascination
As it lays itself bare in supplication
Putting together a world class dictionary
It is as well known as it even contrary

That words are but symbols agreed
Whose meanings change as these need
Volumes of study make their approach
But, even still wise men hardly encroach

On all that it is to yet be known
In all of the English language shown
To more words than most will ever say
As lairds of Oxford take their turn at play

With a stumbled lurch, these tumble
As the search for words all but crumbles
Never play at sketches in the books
Despite the proctor's dirtiest looks

Word search can be an endless charade
Like the best laid plans of mice and men made
But when cast as it were before the English nation
Every studied nuance has its own quotation

That sets out for the eloquent of mind
What it is that must yet somehow be refined
In the telling of the English tongue
And it all becomes clearer, both old and young

Until at last, we move past the Rubicon
Having created the ultimate lexicon
And find it within our capability
To know the English language in all her propriety

(c) December 25, 2020  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved