Thy world it is; Thy music ringing; Thy stars listening! A wanderer, I. Rest, oh, let me rest! In peace let me lie! At an ad. to keep me in carfare. Why shouldn't I praise the bilious pill And in loftiest numbers chirrup, And make the popular heartstrings thrill With a poem on soothing syrup? Why shouldn't I cleave the cloudless dome Through the billow of light that's polar, To rhapsodize on Excelsior Foam That preserves the fleeting molar? Sing ho! for the laurels won by me On the lotion prepared for freckles! My harp sha'n't hang on the willow tree While the soap muse brings me shekels. For I know in a general sort of way, While with laughter I'm sorely shaken, That the critics will rise in their might and say That they all were written by Bacon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) TO HARTLEY COLERIDGE; SIX YEARS OLD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE LADY UNKNOWN by ALEXANDER (ALEKSANDR) ALEXANDROVICH BLOK AD ASTRA PER ASPERA! by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE AFTER HARVEST by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE A QUESTION by CHRISTOPHER PEARSE CRANCH |