"Isn't it very lucky," I once heard a youngster say, "That it never snows in summer, when the snow would melt away? And wouldn't it be dreadful if the sun rose in the night When the people all were gone to bed, their eyes shut tight? And how do you account for this, that when our teacher's crusty Our behavior's always dreadful and our knowledge always rusty? And isn't it very fortunate that when her temper's jolly We somehow never spoil it by poor lessons or by folly?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NIGHT, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SNAKES, MONGOOSES, SNAKE-CHARMERS, AND THE LIKE by MARIANNE MOORE THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 68 by OMAR KHAYYAM THE SECOND COMING by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS WAR DEAD by PATRICK JOHN MCALISTER ANDERSON VERSES TO AN INFANT by BERNARD BARTON |