"Oh, no! Hold on!" I hear his voice implore, "You are mistaken; it is not the case The Colonel, to save the Sabbath from disgrace, Calls this my birthday. But, in fact, before The thirtieth—and there still are two days more— You cannot make me more than sixty-six." "In vain!" the inexorable Muse replies. "It may be so; but as the executrix Of your own theory of convenient lies, I must insist upon the Colonel's date. Besides, what matter whether soon or late Your birthday comes whose fame all dates defies? Still, to have everything beyond cavil right, We will dine with you here till Sunday night." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DON JUAN'S SONG by ISAAC ROSENBERG SONG FIRST BY A SHEPHERD by WILLIAM BLAKE BLACK SHEEP by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON A CLEVER WOMAN by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE SWEET STAY-AT-HOME by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES |