There was a Chameleon laid up in a bed Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red), And all the day long he'd be changing his hue From geraniums (red) to delphiniums (blue). A doctor came hurrying round to insist He'd better consult with a spec-i-alist. "A keen diagnosis may mean we trepan. I'll call Doctor Smith. He's a very good man." The poor old Chameleon changed color again And felt he must be in considerable pain. More spec-i-alists came with frowns and with nods And marched in and out in a column of squads. At last on a verdict the doctors agreed And handed it down to a foreman to read. "The patient needs more of a change," they all said, "Than delphiniums (blue) to geraniums (red)." The doctors on leaving some sugary pills Cried, "Ready, present, open fire with your bills." At which the Chameleon bade them his adieus And sang, "Oh, I've got Them Delphinium Blues." The Doctor came back. In his benevolence, He'd bought some new blooms at the patient's expense. "With these your complexion will surely be right. Try these orchids (pale mauve) and gardenias (white)." They put in a greenhouse instead of the bed Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red). "For you convalescents there's nothing, by Jove! Like gardenias (white) and like orchids (pale mauve)." Alas! the Chameleon remarked with a sigh: "These flowers, I figure, should knock out my eye. But I @3did@1 so prefer to get potted instead With delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)." Chameleon turned purple and then he turned pale His color was worse and his health like to fail. The Doctor returned and remarked that he liked His neurotic cases to go and be psyched. A noted psychologist made a long test. "Your complex of color," he said, "is suppressed. Your personal doctor and I will arrange That you shortly experience more of a change." They told the Chameleon he really should try A stay for a while on a Christmas necktie To make you feel brightly, repose on the clocks Of young prep school scholars' splendiferous socks. "We recommend frequent pronounced change of scene, Or you will revert to an unhealthy green. The boutonniere changes you may find some use By night cabarets with their walls @3a la Russe@1." Poor doctored Chameleon! He never got well! At last he succumbed to a violent spell. And this was the change that had cut his days short -- A young lady's bright batik sweater for sport. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CRADLE SONG by PADRAIC COLUM NOCTURNAL SKETCH; BLANK VERSE IN RHYME by THOMAS HOOD A SUMMER NIGHT by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS AT SENLIS ONCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN BY AN INLAND LAKE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE A CRY FROM THE SHORE by ELLEN MACKAY HUTCHINSON CORTISSOZ WATCHWORDS by ARTHUR CLEVELAND COXE |