The recent discovery of this first draft of one of the Bard's most famous sonnets may, or may not, shed further light on the identity of the Dark Lady...

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a Brussel sprout?
Thou art more tasty and more versatile.
Rough winds may shake those round about,
But summer sees you firm, with rounded smile.
Sometimes, as you stand rooted in the soil,
Whitefly and pigeons may assault your leaves,
And, spite of the gardener's eternal toil,
Your heart lies open to nocturnal thieves.
But know there is just one true end for you:
Your destiny is the simmering pot,
As part of a casserole, soup or stew,
Or a nourishing side dish, piping hot.
So long a source of vitamin 'C',
Cabbage, your iron gives long life to me.

Ozycabbages

I met a traveller from an arid land
who said: Upon a strip of loam,
amidst the shale and dust, and sand,
a mighty cabbage once had grown!
Its heart was huge, its leaves were green,
an old man claimed, with wistful looks.
The biggest cabbage ever seen!
Its boiling busied all our cooks!
But now, for all the locals’ talk
no cabbage traces can be found.
Not even one small cabbage stalk
upon that vast and stony ground.

I wander’d, lonely…

I wander’d, lonely as a weed
In cultivated ground
When I beheld – was bless’d indeed!
By something most profound!

A field of emerald cabbages
Each rooted to the soil,
Aloof from all life’s ravages
Produced by human toil.

Sturdy, round, as strong as trees
All standing there in rows
Impervious to frost or breeze,
Each cabbage boldly grows!

When I’m bored, or plain annoyed,
Assailed by modern savages,
My mind drifts back, my heart is buoyed
By thinking of those cabbages.

Norville, the Space Cabbage

Astronauts, Cosmonauts, are all in the race
To be the ones blasted furthest in space.
Monkeys and dogs were once both employed
To escape from the earth and into the void.
Out into orbit, and then to the moon!
Humans on Mars! - It’ll happen quite soon!
But don’t get excited, for it’s time now to share
The news that there’s others, already there!

For Norville the Cabbage, a few years ago
Built his own rocket – and not just for show.
Made out of scrap from bikes and old cars
It got him from Earth, and out on to Mars!
Launched from the garden, one dark, moonless night,
It rose from the ground in a smooth upward flight.
Spaceward and onward, like a small, twinkling star,
Norville and rocket, voyaging so far.

With room for one cabbage, and a packet of seeds,
And a nice bed of soil to meet all his needs,
Norville relaxed, secure in his place,
Comfy and cosy, speeding through space,
Until he looked out, and suddenly found
His spaceship was slowing, approaching the ground!
With careful manoeuvres, the way he’d been trained,
He bought the craft down on the Martian terrain.
He gave the ‘stop’ button a small but firm thump
As the spacecraft hit ground with a soft, little bump.

He opened the hatch and ventured outside
His crinkly green leaves all puffed up with pride.
“A small step for cabbages, that may be so,
But from small beginnings, then mighty things grow!”
Then, off to do tests: “Yes, water - there’s some,
The weather’s not bad, there’s warmth from the sun.
Soil’s pretty good, it’s got what we need
To grow a big cabbage from each little seed!”


He made himself busy, digging and sowing,
Within a few weeks, young seedlings were growing.
And within a few seasons, cabbages had spread
And the fabled red planet was no longer red.
For all those with eyes, it’s plain to be seen
That the surface of Mars is a patchwork of green!
Now a cabbage contingent, with no wish to roam,
Is happy and thriving, with Mars as its home.
And those in the future that touchdown will curse
To find out that cabbages settled there first!

The Brotherhood of Cabbages.


This poem is not a poem.
It’s a message sent in code
to a Brotherhood of Cabbages
that live just down the road.

The phrase “Great Holy Cabbage”
is their signal to advance
into the nearest cabbage patch
to dance their sacred dance.

So if you see some cabbages
in rapturous states of bliss,
dancing for the Cabbage God -
you’ll know that they’ve read this.

Winter Cabbages.

The sky was dark,
the air was cold.
The moon was bright,
the year was old.
I heard a noise,
from just outside.
A thump and a splatter,
with giggles and cries!
I peered in the garden
and saw such a sight!
My cabbages!
- having a snowball fight!
Savoys and drumheads
in the moonlit glow,
dodging and throwing
great balls of snow!
They saw me look
and promptly froze,
and sank back into
their winter doze.
While I watched,
they all played dead.
So I went back in
with a shake of my head.
I knew full well
once I was gone,
they’d start again
their winter fun.
And, in the morning,
I'd probably see
a crude little snowman
that looked like me.

A Windy Day

The wind blew hard, the wind blew cruel,
It blew the children into school.
It blew them right across the grass
And then it blew them into class!
It blew each child right through the door
Then blew them too, across the floor!
It blew them, next, around the hall,
Over chairs and up the wall!
Teachers cried out in despair;
"There’s children blowing everywhere!"
It blew them up, it blew them down,
It blew them round, and round, and round!
The wind then dropped, and that was it.
The children settled down… a bit.