"Oh, no! Hold on!" I hear his voice implore, "You are mistaken; it is not the case The Colonel, to save the Sabbath from disgrace, Calls this my birthday. But, in fact, before The thirtieth—and there still are two days more— You cannot make me more than sixty-six." "In vain!" the inexorable Muse replies. "It may be so; but as the executrix Of your own theory of convenient lies, I must insist upon the Colonel's date. Besides, what matter whether soon or late Your birthday comes whose fame all dates defies? Still, to have everything beyond cavil right, We will dine with you here till Sunday night." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WESSEX HEIGHTS by THOMAS HARDY A BALLAD OF TREES AND THE MASTER by SIDNEY LANIER FRENCH REVOLUTION; AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH RODGERSON'S DOUG by WILLIAM AITKEN CHORUS FROM A TRAGEDY by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 6 by RICHARD BARNFIELD THOUGHTS AFTER VIRGIL by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB |