His Highness Dog at Kew

You watch the Cat Stevens brouhaha on TV.

His songs are from the time when you were young. You remember those years as ones of war and rebellion. His songs of peace and serenity seem oddly juxtaposed against the era.

His “Where Do the Children Play?” is still one of your favorites.

All night long a poem by Alexander Pope plays across your mind. The poem goes like this.

Inscribed On the Collar Of His Highness Dog At Kew

I am His Highness dog at Kew.
Pray tell me, Sir, whose dog are you?

You vow to eschew grand historical schemes of any stripe. The Imagination always shreds them.