Gerald Bullett

Gerald (William) Bullett was born in 1893, and wrote about 50 books of fiction, criticism and poetry between 1916 and his death in 1958, including some ‘supernatural’ fiction.  As with Martin Armstrong, his poetry is Georgian by nature, although his Collected Poems (1956) contains some parodies, including a notable one of Tennyson.  Also like Armstrong, he was a radio broadcaster in the 1950s. He was sufficiently fluent in Chinese to try his hand at translating Chinese poetry. This is a poem from 1921, from a collection called Mice & Other Poems.


Wedding Day

    Was it for this we loved: to settle down
    (Having once paid the necessary fee)
    In some nice suburb not too far from town,
    To eat and sleep and kiss complacently,
    Loving by rote as decent people do:
    Was it for this we hungered, I and you?

    A lover’s vows are gossamer, they say;
    But we have registered our mutual vow
    For seven and sixpence, dearest. Yesterday
    There was but love to bind our hearts, but now
    We owe it to the Vicar to be good
    And love each other as we said we would.

    That promise at the altar is a link
    (Which only death can break) between us two;
    For every time I kiss you I shall think:
    ‘How this would please the Vicar if he knew!’
    And we shall put our youthful dreams to bed,
    And so live on–long after we are dead.

    We are made one. One mind will serve us both.
    (‘Oh yes, we think Locke’s novels rather sweet!’)
    In ever-living witness of our troth
    You’ll serve the vegetables, I the meat…
    O happiness! It is our wedding day!
    Embrace me, dear: the Prayer Book says you may.

There is a longer description of his career on this blog.Gerald Bullett

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