Dexery-tethery! down in the dike, Under the ooze and the slime, Nestles the wraith of a reticent Gryke, Blubbering bubbles of rhyme: Though the reeds touch him and tickle his teeth -- Though the Graigroll and the Cheest Pluck at the leaves of his laureate-wreath, Nothing affects him the least. He sinks to the dregs in the dead o' the night, And he shuffles the shadows about As he gathers the stars in a nest of delight And sets there and hatches them out: The Zhederrill peers from his watery mine In scorn with the Will-o'-the-wisp, As he twinkles his eyes in a whisper of shine That ends in a luminous lisp. The Morning is born like a baby of gold, And it lies in a spasm of pink, And rallies the Cheest for the horrible cold He has dragged to the willowy brink, The Gryke blots his tears with a scrap of his grief, And growls at the wary Graigroll As he twunkers a tune on a Tiljicum leaf And hums like a telegraph pole. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BOUGH OF NONSENSE by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES ON ENGLISH MONSIEUR by BEN JONSON SONNET: 110 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE SOFTNESS OF SYBARIS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE RED SUNSETS, 1883 (1) by MATHILDE BLIND RECOLLECTINS OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |