WHEN wise Minerva still was young And just the least romantic, Soon after from Jove's head she flung That preternatural antic, 'T is said, to keep from idleness Or flirting, those twin curses, She spent her leisure, more or less, In writing po_____, no, verses. How nice they were! to rhyme with @3far@1 A kind @3star@1 did not tarry; The metre, too, was regular As schoolboy's dot and carry; And full they were of pious plums, So extra-super-moral, — For sucking Virtue's tender gums Most tooth-enticing coral. A clean, fair copy she prepares, Makes sure of moods and tenses, With her own hand, — for prudence spares A man- (or woman-) -uensis; Complete, and tied with ribbons proud, She hinted soon how cosy a Treat it would be to read them loud After next day's Ambrosia. The Gods thought not it would amuse So much as Homer's Odyssees, But could not very well refuse The properest of Goddesses; So all sat round in attitudes Of various dejection, As with a @3hem!@1 the queen of prudes Began her grave prelection. At the first pause Zeus said, "Well sung! — I mean — ask Phœbus, — @3he@1 knows." Says Phœbus, "Zounds! a wolf's among Admetus's merinos! Fine! very fine! but I must go; They stand in need of me there; Excuse me!" snatched his stick, and so Plunged down the gladdened ether. With the next gap, Mars said, "For me Don't wait, — naught could be finer, But I 'm engaged at half past three, — A fight in Asia Minor!" Then Venus lisped, "I 'm sorely tried, These duty-calls are vip'rous; But I @3must@1 go; I have a bride To see about in Cyprus." Then Bacchus, — "I must say good bye, Although my peace it jeopards; I meet a man at four, to try A well-broke pair of leopards." His words woke Hermes. "Ah!" he said, "I @3so@1 love moral theses!" Then winked at Hebe, who turned red, And smoothed her apron's creases. Just then Zeus snored, — the Eagle drew His head the wing from under; Zeus snored, — o'er startled Greece there flew The many-volumed thunder. Some augurs counted nine, some, ten; Some said 't was war, some, famine, And all, that other-minded men Would get a precious_____. Proud Pallas sighed, "It will not do; Against the Muse I 've sinned, oh!" And her torn rhymes sent flying through Olympus's back window. Then, packing up a peplus clean, She took the shortest path thence, And opened, with a mind serene, A Sunday-school in Athens. The verses? Some in ocean swilled, Killed every fish that bit to 'em; Some Galen caught, and, when distilled, Found morphine the residuum; But some that rotted on the earth Sprang up again in copies, And gave two strong narcotics birth, Didactic verse and poppies. Years after, when a poet asked The Goddess's opinion, As one whose soul its wings had tasked In Art's clear-aired dominion, "Discriminate," she said, "betimes; The Muse is unforgiving; Put all your beauty in your rhymes, Your morals in your living." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LWONESOMENESS by WILLIAM BARNES TO THE FOUR COURTS, PLEASE by JAMES STEPHENS |