Dear Dan, it does amaze me quite, To see you write, and write, and write, But how the Devil you can come by't 's a wonder. Though 'tis but Grubstreet, yet that same I think so much above thy aim As the sublime and shining flame Of thunder Does far surpass the sooty blaze Of slut dispensing kitchen grease; And, if this be the present case, Consider How much your ribaldry provokes, With fulsome lines and poor, dull jokes. There's no return but cudgel-strokes, On hide, Sir, Can I in honor make to you. For if you'd finely run me through, Perhaps I'd take a rapier too, And fight you. Thy blood might then my wrath assuage, When honor called me to engage, But you're so far below my rage, I slight you. From barking cur, the mastiff flies, But when behind he bites his thighs, He turns and pisses out his eyes, Disdaining So small and pitiful a foe, From noisy boasting brought so low; The picture's drawn; I'm sure you know My meaning. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALMANACH DU PRINTEMPS VIVAROIS by HAYDEN CARRUTH THEN AND NOW by CECIL DAY LEWIS THE PRODIGAL SON by DAVID IGNATOW ILLUSIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO MARY CHURCH TERRELL - LECTURER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |