SOMETIMES when I sit down at night And try to think of something new, Some odd conceit that I may write And work into a verse or two, There often dawns upon my view, The while my feeble thoughts I nurse, A little book in gold and blue -- "The Oxford Book of English Verse." And though I try, in wild affright At thought of all I have to do, To keep that volume out of sight, If I so much as look askew I catch it playing peek-a-boo. Then work may go to -- pot, or worse! I'm giving up the evening to "The Oxford Book of English Verse." O! some for essays recondite, And some for frothy fiction sue, But give to me for my delight One tuneful tome to ramble through; To hear the first quaint "Sing Cuccu!" And all those noble songs rehearse Whose deathless melodies imbue "The Oxford Book of English Verse." @3L'Envoi@1 Kind Reader, here's a tip for you: Go buy, though skinny be your purse And other books of yours be few, "The Oxford Book of English Verse." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CORIDON'S SONG (IN ISAAK WALTON'S 'COMPLEAT ANGLER') by JOHN CHALKHILL THE POWER OF MUSIC by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH CHORUS OF A SONG THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY ALBERT CHEVALIER by HENRY MAXIMILIAN BEERBOHM A GIRL'S SONG ON HER LOVER, PAIDIN RUADH by CHARLES BEWLEY INSPIRATION by GRACE HOLBROOK BLOOD |