Harpocrates – a Poem for Harpo Marx

Harpocrates

 How do I love Harpo Marx?
My word, the ways are many!
(Though words can’t tell the worth of him,
Who never needed any.)

 His language was a woman’s wig,
A pocketful of pasteboard –
That coat concealed a horn, a fish,
Three hundred knives, a washboard.

 His heart revealed his love for wife,
For life, for fun, for fairness,
For family, friends, for four bless’d kids:
All full of love’s awareness –

That every noise he made was smart
And every thing he touched was art.
Groucho wept when Harpo died,
But when he played, the angels cried.

by Marjorie Cardwell

A poem for Harpo Marx

2012

Harpo Marx of The Marx Brothers playing his favorite instrument, the harp.

When Harpo plays his harp…

About Marjorie Cardwell
Visit www.marjoriecardwell.com to find out all about me!

See you at dccardwell.com!

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