He slid like lightning down the steeple, -- Flashed through their streets like rapid flame, In rags and tatters red and yellow, With tongue in cheek -- a waspish fellow. He louped and leered at all the people And bade them blush for shame. He seemed the gadfly Io lowed at, The sheep-tick in their sheepish wool. He woke their sleep with ribald laughter. Their prejudices quaked thereafter. Their each sententiousness he strode at, And seized its nose to pull. They held hard by their ancient steadings, While dust-clouds rose and cobwebs flew. Ubiquitous he pranced to pillage Each hallowed custom of their village. Their rural prints all blazed with headings: "@3The dog shall have his due!@1" Stout burgesses grew yellow-mottled With spleen. Stout constables pursued The whirling waif. Still laughing madder He banged them with his buffoon's bladder. He choked their mayor scarlet-wattled, With cries of "Platitude!" A town of pride, a town of decent And comfortable lights and views Was Snore-by-Day, with none to scorn it, When suddenly forthbuzzed this hornet, Flame-hot, heretically recent, To startle and confuse. So for his day he held the rostrum -- Electric messenger to Earth! And eyes were rubbed and heart-beats heightened. The town awoke. The town was frightened. They'll sleep again in half a lustrum -- But, 'ware the wonder-birth! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PLUMPUPPETS by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 91 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 25 by ALFRED TENNYSON HYMN FOR ALL SAINTS DAY IN THE MORNING by HENRY ALFORD RHENISH AUTUMN; TO TOUSSAINT LUCA by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE THE NIGHTINGALE THAT WAS DROWNED by PHILIP AYRES THE CROSS; TO THE MOTHERS OF THE MARTYRED DEAD UPON FIELD OF BATTLE by JOSEPHINE TURCK BAKER |