We knew a miser, calm and cold, Unutterably pious, Whose grave professions, smugly bold, Provokingly would try us. He claimed that all he did or said Jehovah instigated; By heavenly promptings he was led, And so he often stated. He sold us milk, and raised the price A cent a quart, explaining The Lord had bade him make the rise, It was of God's ordaining. "But what," we asked him, "would you do If God should tell you clearly Milk must no more be sold by you, But given to us merely?" "Why, then" -- the miser did not shrink His inmost thought to utter, But said, before he stopped to think, "I'd make it into butter." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE WOMAN by HAYDEN CARRUTH LOHENGRIN; PROEM by EMMA LAZARUS THE NEW APOCRYPHA: THE FIG TREE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE ROOM OF MIRRORS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE SPARROW HARK IN THE RAIN (ALEXANDER STEPHENS HEARS NEWS) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO-MORROW IS MY BIRTHDAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TOWARD THE GULF; DEDICATED TO THEODORE ROOSEVELT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |