Nine weeks in a nursing home— Such has been my lot, All foul fiends sent cursing home By the wizard Scott. Ne'er a detrimental night, Ne'er a dismal day But Romance's gentle Knight Cleared the clouds away. Would you all the braver lie, Hale in heart and head? Call the tribe of Waverley, Sick man, to your bed. Introspection's succubi Instantly disperse; While the modern muck you buy Would but make them worse. To Sir Walter's skill owes lip More than lip can tell; Nightly 'neath your pillowslip Keep him and sleep well. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CLEAR AND COLDER; BOSTON COMMON by ROBERT FROST FRAGMENTS WRITTEN WHILE TRAVELING...A MIDWESTERN HEAT WAVE by JAMES GALVIN IN QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO GOD THE FATHER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE CAMBODIAN BOX by KAREN SWENSON |