If thou didst feed on western plains of yore; Or waddle wide with flat and flabby feet Over some Cambrian mountain's plashy moor; Or find in farmer's yard a safe retreat From gypsy thieves, and foxes sly and fleet; If thy gray quills, by lawyer guided, trace Deeds big with ruin to some wretched race, Or love-sick poet's sonnet, sad and sweet, Wailing the rigor of his lady fair; Or if, the drudge of housemaid's daily toil, Cobwebs and dust thy pinions white besoil, Departed Goose! I neither know nor care. But this I know, that we pronounced thee fine, Seasoned with sage and onions, and port wine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SECRET LOVE; SONG by JOHN CLARE ON THE DEATH OF A METAPHYSICIAN by GEORGE SANTAYANA INSCRIPTIONS: 4 by MARK AKENSIDE MAGUS MUIR by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE WANDERING JEW by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER GETHSEMANE by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS A WATERPIECE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE WANDERER: 6. PALINGENSIS: A PSALM OF CONFESSION by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |