In Which I Muse On A World In Which Henry Purcell Is God

Baroque, complex and lovely: so would be
A world where Henry Purcell was its God.
'Twould matter not if actually He
Existed or not. If real the facade
He'd place on His creation would hold fast
To fine ideals we'd strive to emulate.
If just a figment, still his unsurpassed
Oeuvre we'd dreamed up sure would mitigate
The flaws we have as creatures. And the spheres
Would elegantly vibrate -- this although
Our understanding snagged up on the gears
Of Nahum Tate's plumb awful libretto.
An artist who can transcend stuff like that
Could knock Jehovah into a cocked hat!