I've grown a goiter by dwelling in this den -- As cats from stagnant streams in Lombardy, Or in what other land they hap to be -- Which drives the belly close beneath the chin: My beard turns up to heaven; my nape falls in, Fixed on my spine: my breast-bone visibly Grows like a harp: a rich embroidery Bedews my face from brush-drops thick and thin. My loins into my paunch like levers grind: My buttock like a crupper bears my weight; My feet unguided wander to and fro; In front my skin grows loose and long; behind, By bending it becomes more taut and strait; Crosswise I strain me like a Syrian bow: Whence false and quaint, I know, Must be the fruit of squinting brain and eye; For ill can aim the gun that bends awry. Come then, Giovanni, try To succor my dead pictures and my fame; Since foul I fare and painting is my shame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ISLAND (SAINT HELENA, 1821) by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON SUNSET: ST. LOUIS by SARA TEASDALE FABLES: 1ST SER. 5. THE WILD BOAR AND THE RAM by JOHN GAY THE STENOGRAPHERS by PATRICIA KATHLEEN PAGE HIS HEART, INTO A BIRD by PHILIP AYRES THE SEAGULL by HERBERT BASHFORD ON A RAINBOW AT NIGHT by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |