
On the bus into school and work this morning,
madelineusher and I were talking about Emily Dickinson, her favorite poet. Apparently Connie Willis wrote a humorous story in which she pointed out that many of Dickinson's poems can be sung to the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas", e.g.
"Oh, because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me!"
madelineusher sang several other examples; she has much more Dickinson memorized than I do. Then I tossed in
"Oh, I burn my candle at both ends, it will not last the night!"
And
madelineusher, in a tone of barely-controlled outrage, said "That's Edna St. Vincent Millay, not Emily Dickinson!
Don't confuse your dash-monger with my beautiful bisexual poet!"
One has to wonder what people sitting nearby make of our bus conversations. Oh, and I love the epithet "dash-monger" for Millay.