WHEN Omar smote his bloomin' lyre About his quadruple desire, There was no daily growing yell About the rising c. of l. A Loaf of Bread is costly now; A Jug of Wine is high—and Thou! Oh, girl! the never-ending payment For all thy provender and raiment! Pity the bard who pays the bill For Bread and Wine and Lady Jill. For stationary stays—ah, curses! The royalty on a Book of Verses. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RIDDLE ON THE LETTER H (1) by CATHERINE MARIA FANSHAWE A VISION OF CONNAUGHT IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN FOR THE YOUNGEST by CHARLES WESLEY LOVE'S NEW PHILOSOPHY by PHILIP AYRES THE SUCCESSOR by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE DISCIPLE by DWIGHT JAQUES BRADLEY |