MADAM,--Two Cockscombs wait at your command, And, what is strange, both dressed by Nature's hand; Like other fops they dread a hasty shower, And beg a refuge in your closest bower; Showy like them, like them they yield no fruit, But then, to make amends, they both are mute. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FACADE: 22. ALONE by EDITH SITWELL PIONEERS! O PIONEERS! by WALT WHITMAN A MARLOW MADRIGAL by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY WHITE GRASS by ADA BAZZACCHINI THE WHISTLE OF THE TRAIN by LEVI BISHOP THE DAIMYO'S POND by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |