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"You're the sprouting flower in a forest of thorns," offered one boy with an alert face and gawky limbs.
"You're the worm spraying discord in my gut," another suggested, visibly relishing the image.
"You're an arrogant bull elephant and I am the red earth on which you tread," said a milky blond boy with translucent skin.
Ms. Agbabi pronounced them all "quite beautiful" before bringing the conversation around to assonance and rhyme schemes. The class ended with the writing of a collective poem:
You're the charger for my Nokia phone
You're the schmear for my bagel
You're the butter in my raisin scone.
Searching for a fourth line, the Harry Potter look-alike suggested, "You're the suntan on my navel."
- VICTORIA YOUNG, "Giving the Boys at Eton Poetry to Think About," new york times March 5, 2005
posted March 05, 2005 in print. 20032001