My clothing was once linsey wolsey fine, My hair hung lank and my coat it did shine, But now I'm grown old and nature doth decay, My master he doth frown and thus I heard him say, Oh! Ball; Oh. My lodging once was in a stable warm, To keep my tender limbs from cold and harm, But now in open fields I am forced to go, For to bear the cold winter's hail, rain, and snow. My feeding was once of the best of hay, That ever grew in fields or meadows gay, But no such comfort can I find at all, For now I am forced to nab short grass that grows against the wall. My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth, and round, But now corrupted, rotten, and unsound, And my hollow hoof that was both smooth and hard Now by the blacksmith is most badly served. * * * My skin unto the huntsman I bequeath, And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give, My body swift that has run so many miles, It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates and stiles. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY BAKER, AT NEW YORK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS LONDON, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE HIS REQUEST TO JULIA by ROBERT HERRICK THE NAME OF JESUS by JOHN NEWTON NIMROD: 3 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH MAKING FRIENDS by JULIEN AUGUSTE PELAGE BRIZEUX LINES FROM A NOTEBOOK - SEPTEMBER 1803 by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |