Lives
there a man in Cambridgeport
Who
loveth work and loveth sport.
He
liveth in a “pleasant place”,
And
weareth there a pleasant face.
He
sometimes asketh poets in,
And
causeth them to widely grin.
A
bit stiff-necked he sometimes is,
But
‘tis, I’ll grant, no fault of his.
He
maketh sunshine cloudy days
By
his peculiar coltish ways;
And
if we’re full of fret and fuss,
He
tryeth hard to humor us.
He
writeth poems for the Press
And
meeteth wonderful success.
He
spinneth yarns andreadeth verse;
The
former thin, the latter terse.
Nov.
15, ‘91
Pub.
in the
Camb.
Press
No comments:
Post a Comment