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...TO A MOTH SEEN IN WINTER by ROBERT FROST DOMESDAY BOOK: LILLI ALM by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ANOTHER DARK LADY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON NURSE'S SONG, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE NOTHING TO WEAR' by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER H. BAPTISME (2) by GEORGE HERBERT |