They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care; They pursued it with forks and hope; They threatened its life with a railway-share;
By shyam sapkota3 years ago in Poets
Come, thou blessed day of rest! Soother of the tortured breast, Wearied souls release from toil, Life's eternal sad turmoil;
Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle, Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
I know two women, and one is chaste And cold as the snows on a winter waste, Stainless ever in act and thought
However the battle is ended, Though proudly the victor comes With fluttering flags and prancing nags And echoing roll of drums,
And because a man is human He'll want to eat, and thanks a lot But talk can't take the place of meat or fill an empty pot.
"Hign bliss is only for a higher state," But, surely, if severe afflictions borne With patience merit the reward of peace,
Fiddle-de-dee, Fiddle-de-dee, The fly has married the humble bee. Says the fly, says he, "Will you marry me,
Thistle and darnell and dock grew there, And a bush, in the corner, of may, On the orchard wall I used to sprawl
There is a bellowing in me, as of might Unfleshed and visionless, mangling the air With horrible convulse, as if it bare
Kabul town's by Kabul river, Blow the trumpet, draw the sword, There I lef' my mate for ever, Wet an' drippin' by the ford.
Miss Danae, when Fair and Young (As Horace has divinely sung) Could not be kept from Jove's Embrace By Doors of Steel, and Walls of Brass.
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