A poem by Thomas Hood, which contains a favorite pun, as well as containing my recent feeling.
To Minerva
My temples throb, my pulses boil,
I'm sick of Song and Ode, and Ballad--
So, Thrysis, take the Midnight Oil
And pour it on a lobster salad.
My brain is dull, my sight is foul,
I cannot write a verse, or read--
Then, Pallas, take away thine Owl,
And let us have a lark instead.
To Minerva
My temples throb, my pulses boil,
I'm sick of Song and Ode, and Ballad--
So, Thrysis, take the Midnight Oil
And pour it on a lobster salad.
My brain is dull, my sight is foul,
I cannot write a verse, or read--
Then, Pallas, take away thine Owl,
And let us have a lark instead.
Comments
Post a Comment