I chanced upon a new book yesterday; I opened it, and, where my finger lay 'Twixt page and uncut page, these words I read -- Some six or seven at most! -- and learned thereby That you, FitzGerald, whom by ear and eye She never knew, "thanked God my wife was dead." Aye, dead! and were yourself alive, good Fitz, How to return you thanks would task my wits. Kicking you seems the common lot of curs -- While more appropriate greeting lends you grace, Surely to spit there glorifies your face -- Spitting from lips once sanctified by hers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TIE-DOWN OF A BONSAI by MARVIN BELL MORNING, NOON AND NIGHT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO A PRIZE BIRD by MARIANNE MOORE YOUTH'S IMMORTALITY by GEORGE SANTAYANA COOPER SQUARE by KAREN SWENSON THERE WILL BE STARS by SARA TEASDALE |