That swollen paunch you are doomed to bear Your gluttonous grandsire used to wear; That tongue, at once so light and dull, Wagged in your grandam's empty skull; The leering of the sensual eye Your father, when he came to die, Left yours alone; and that cheap flirt, Your mother, gave you from the dirt The simper which she used upon So many men ere he was won. Your vanity and greed and lust Are each your portion from the dust Of those that died, and from the tomb Made you what you must needs become. I do not hold you aught to blame For sin at second hand, and shame: Evil could but from evil spring; And yet, away, you charnel thing! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES BY CLAUDIA by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE RHODORA: ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER? by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE HILL WIFE: LONELINESS by ROBERT FROST THE MOCKING-BIRD by FRANK LEBBY STANTON REVELATION by ROBERT PENN WARREN THE CLOUDS: THE OLD EDUCATION by ARISTOPHANES |