I chanced upon a new book yesterday; I opened it, and, where my finger lay 'Twixt page and uncut page, these words I read -- Some six or seven at most! -- and learned thereby That you, FitzGerald, whom by ear and eye She never knew, "thanked God my wife was dead." Aye, dead! and were yourself alive, good Fitz, How to return you thanks would task my wits. Kicking you seems the common lot of curs -- While more appropriate greeting lends you grace, Surely to spit there glorifies your face -- Spitting from lips once sanctified by hers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VERSES TO A FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON PSALM 31. IN TE DOMINE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE A HOP AT SARATOGA by LEVI BISHOP LOVE, DRINK, AND DEBT by ALEXANDER BROME VAIN WOOING by EDWARD RALPH CHEYNEY DEDICATION TO *** by JOHN CHALK CLARIS NOT AT HOME by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |