MY lad, who sits at breakfast With forehead in a frown, Because the chop is under-done, And the fritter over-brown, -- Just leave your dainty mincing, And take, to mend your fare, A slice of golden sunshine, And a cup of the morning air. And when you have eat and drunken, If you want a little fun, Throw by your jacket of broadcloth, And take an up-hill run. And what with one and the other You will be so strong and gay, That work will be only a pleasure Through all the rest of the day. And when it is time for supper, Your bread and milk will be As sweet as a comb of honey. Will you try my recipe? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RESPECTABILITY by ROBERT BROWNING AN ANTE-BELLUM SERMON by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR HIS REQUEST TO JULIA by ROBERT HERRICK TO LUCASTA, [ON] GOING BEYOND THE SEAS by RICHARD LOVELACE JOHN MAYNARD by HORATIO ALGER JR. |