If thou didst feed on western plains of yore; Or waddle wide with flat and flabby feet Over some Cambrian mountain's plashy moor; Or find in farmer's yard a safe retreat From gypsy thieves, and foxes sly and fleet; If thy gray quills, by lawyer guided, trace Deeds big with ruin to some wretched race, Or love-sick poet's sonnet, sad and sweet, Wailing the rigor of his lady fair; Or if, the drudge of housemaid's daily toil, Cobwebs and dust thy pinions white besoil, Departed Goose! I neither know nor care. But this I know, that we pronounced thee fine, Seasoned with sage and onions, and port wine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONSCIENCE AND REMORSE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST by ALISON RUTHERFORD SATISFIED by HESTER A. BENEDICT TO WEBSTER by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE A MOTHER'S SONG by FRIEDA MARTINI BUCHEN |