I wander oft amongst these stately aisles,
Where one may many gourmet foods procure.
The shelves beguile me more than any tour
Of ruin’d temples on Aegean isles.
They ne’er run out of bread--there’s always piles-- 
Their fruit is ever fresh, their cheese mature,
The check-out girls are charming and demure,
And fairer still than Helen was, with smiles
That make each moment queuing seem a joy. 
Potato waffles, Wotsits, Snickers bars,
Exotic oriental leaves--bok choi--, 
And gherkins too, display’d in crystal jars;
Such dainties are the buyer’s to enjoy,
And stir me more than any dusty vase.

Sonnet for Tescos by John Keats

© 2019 by Rob Stuart