A Hate-Song
A hater he came and sat by a ditch, And he took an old cracked lute; And he sang a song which was more of a screech 'Gainst a woman that was a brute.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
A hater he came and sat by a ditch, And he took an old cracked lute; And he sang a song which was more of a screech 'Gainst a woman that was a brute.
In four quick lines, Shelley gives you a snapshot of pure, unfiltered spite. A person labeled simply “a hater” settles by a ditch — a low, neglected spot that suits his mood — and picks up an old cracked lute.
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