It was a transmogrifying bee Came droning down on Chucky's old bald head And sat and put the poison. It scarcely bled,
|
The curse of hell upon the sleek upstart That got the Captain finally on his back...
|
But this was the old tree's late branch wrenched away, Grieving the sapless limbs, the shorn and shaken.
|
This morning, there flew up the lane A timid lady-bird to our bird-bath And eyed her image dolefully as death;
|
Now the poor comb stood up straight But Chucky did not.
|
Sweet ladies, long may ye bloom, and toughly I hope ye may thole, But was she not lucky? In flowers and lace and mourning,...
|
And weeping fast as she had breath Janet implored us, 'Wake her from her sleep!'...
|
There was such speed in her little body, And such lightness in her footfall, It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all.
|
Alas, ...
|
What we do in life, echos in eternity.
|