Soup should be heralded with a mellow horn, Blowing clear notes of gold against the stars; Strange entrees with a jangle of glass bars Fantastically alive with subtle scorn; Fish, by a plopping, gurgling rush of waters, Clear, vibrant waters, beautifully austere; Roast, with a thunder of drums to stun the ear, A screaming fife, a voice from ancient slaughters! Over the salad let the woodwinds moan; Then the green silence of many watercresses; Dessert, a balalaika, strummed alone; Coffee, a slow, low singing no passion stresses; Such are my thoughts as -- clang! crash! bang! -- I brood And gorge the sticky mess these fools call food! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD MAN DREAMS by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES LET NO BIRD SING by VERNE TAYLOR BENEDICT THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: DESIRE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON HIS SONG FOR HER WAKING by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 9 by THOMAS CAMPION TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. THE GREAT LEADER by EDWARD CARPENTER |