MY lad, who sits at breakfast With forehead in a frown, Because the chop is under-done, And the fritter over-brown, -- Just leave your dainty mincing, And take, to mend your fare, A slice of golden sunshine, And a cup of the morning air. And when you have eat and drunken, If you want a little fun, Throw by your jacket of broadcloth, And take an up-hill run. And what with one and the other You will be so strong and gay, That work will be only a pleasure Through all the rest of the day. And when it is time for supper, Your bread and milk will be As sweet as a comb of honey. Will you try my recipe? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE SOLDIER GOING TO THE FIELD by WILLIAM DAVENANT JEWISH HYMN IN BABYLON by HENRY HART MILMAN WOONE SMILE MWORE by WILLIAM BARNES STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY by BERNARD BARTON MEETING AGAIN by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON HYMN 2. THE EPIPHANY OF APOLLO by CALLIMACHUS THE OLD BRIDGE by HILDA CONKLING OUT OF THE SHADOWS: AN UNFINISHED SONNET-SEQUENCE 10 by JOSEPH SEAMON COTTER JR. |