SOMETIMES my Conscience says, say he, "Don't you know me?" And I, says I, skeered through and through, "Of course I do. You air a nice chap ever' way, I'm here to say! You make me cry -- you make me pray, And all them good things thataway -- That is, at @3night@1. Where do you stay Durin' the day?" And then my Conscience says, onc't more, "You know me -- shore?" "Oh, yes," says I, a-trimblin' faint, "You're jes' a saint! Your ways is all so holy-right, I love you better ever' night You come around, -- tel' plum daylight, When you air out o' sight!" And then my Conscience sort o' grits His teeth, and spits On his two hands and grabs, of course, Some old remorse, And beats me with the big butt-end O' @3that@1 thing -- tel my clostest friend 'Ud hardly know me. "Now," says he, "Be keerful as you'd orto be And @3allus@1 think o' me!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MR. S.T. COLERIDGE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ON WORDSWORTH by DAVID HARTLEY COLERIDGE PRAYERS OF STEEL by CARL SANDBURG THE GRAVE OF SHELLEY by OSCAR WILDE GOD EVERYWHERE by ABRAHAM IBN EZRA RING FROM THE RIM OF THE GLASS, BOYS by JOHN CLINTON ANTHONY TO ELIZA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE TRYST OF THE NIGHT by MAY (MARY) CLARISSA GILLINGTON BYRON |