His car was worth a thousand pounds and more, A tall and glossy black silk hat he wore; His clothes were pressed, like pretty leaves, when they Are found in Bibles closed for many a day; Until the birds I love dropped something that – As white as milk, but thick as any cream – Went pit, pit, pat! Right on his lovely hat! Lead this unhappy poet to his car – Where is his longing now, where his desire? When left alone, I'll ride him to his grave, On my own little horse of wind and fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHILD'S FIRST GRIEF by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS UNDER THE OAK by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 1 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE DIVISION OF POLAND by EDWIN ARNOLD TO MADEMOISELLE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER |