There was a man in our town And he was wondrous dry; He fell into a fitful sleep And dreamed a quart of Rye. And when he saw what he had dreamed (Oh, Virtue shall prevail!) He dreamed a horde of Volstead spies Who dragged him off to jail. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MEMORY by HAYDEN CARRUTH A TIME TO DANCE by CECIL DAY LEWIS A POEM FROM BOULDER RIDGE by JAMES GALVIN THE SMALL SELF AND THE LIBERAL SELF by JAMES GALVIN DESPAIR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TRIFLE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |