IN a room of the palace Black Mrs. Behemoth Gave way to wroth And the wildest malice. Cried Mrs. Behemoth, "Come, court lady, Doomed like a moth, Through palace rooms shady!" The candle flame Seemed a yellow pompion, Sharp as a scorpion, Nobody came . . . Only a bugbear Air unkind, That bud-furred papoose, The young spring wind, Blew out the candle. Where is it gone? To flat Coromandel Rolling on! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE THREE WARNINGS by HESTER LYNCH (SALUSBURY) PIOZZI GATHERING SONG OF DONALD [OR, DONUI DHU] THE BLACK by WALTER SCOTT COLIN CLOUTS COME HOME AGAIN by EDMUND SPENSER MUIOPOTMOS, OR THE FATE OF THE BUTTERFLIE by EDMUND SPENSER REMEMBER WITH A SONG by STEWART ATKINS SONNET TO A FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON LETTER TO B.W. PROCTOR, ESQ., FROM OXFORD; MAY, 1825 by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |