Ford Madox Ford (Dec. 17, 1873 - 1939) knew everybody. As a poet, novelist and critic he was not particularly distinguished at all, and his texts now seem terribly dated. So, we celebrate his birthday with this lovely group portrait taken in Ezra Pound’s rooms in Paris, 1923:
The gents, L–R: Ezra Pound, John Quinn, Ford Madox Ford, and James Joyce (Photograph from Cornell University)
But what I really wanted to post here was this Limerick, from the pen of Ezra Pound:
There was once a young writer named Joyce
Whose diction was ribidly choice,
And all his friends’ woes
Were deduced from his prose
Which never filled anyone’s purse.
(Pound told Joyce that choice and purse would rhyme perfectly in certain parts of Noo Yoik)
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