WHEN Omar smote his bloomin' lyre About his quadruple desire, There was no daily growing yell About the rising c. of l. A Loaf of Bread is costly now; A Jug of Wine is high—and Thou! Oh, girl! the never-ending payment For all thy provender and raiment! Pity the bard who pays the bill For Bread and Wine and Lady Jill. For stationary stays—ah, curses! The royalty on a Book of Verses. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 26 by JAMES JOYCE MY FATHER'S FACE by HAYDEN CARRUTH YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE SAY by JAMES GALVIN TO J. D. H. (KILLED AT SURREY C. H., OCTOBER, 1866) by SIDNEY LANIER NEBUCHADNEZZAR: OR EATING GRASS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |