<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384958" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>New England Magazine</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Upon Bottle Miche the autre day<br>While yet the nuit was early,<br>Je met a homme whose barbe was grey,<br>Whose cheveaux long and curly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Je am a poete, sir,' dit he,<br>'Je live where tres grande want teems—<br>I’m faim, sir. Sil vous plait give me<br>Un franc or cinquatite centimes.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I donne him vingt big copper sous<br>But dit, 'You moderne rhymers<br>The sacre poet name abuse—<br>Les poets were old timers.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Je know! I know!' he wept, contrite;<br>'The bards no more suis mighty:<br>Ils rise no more in eleve flight,<br>Though some are beaucoup flighty.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Vous wonder why Je weep this way,<br>Pour quoi these tears and blubbers?<br>It is mon fault les bards today<br>Helas! suis mere earth-grubbers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'There was a time when tout might see<br>My grande flights dans the saddle;<br>Crowned rois, indeed, applauded me<br>Le Pegasus astraddle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Le winged horse avec acclaim<br>Was voted mon possession;<br>Je rode him tous les jours to fame;<br>Je led the whole procession.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Then arrivee the Prussian war—<br>The siege—the sacre famine—<br>Then some had but a crust encore,<br>We mange the last least ham-an’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Helas! Mon noble winged steed<br>Went oft avec no dinner;<br>On epics il refusee feed<br>And maigre grew, and thinner!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tout food was gone, and dans the street<br>Each homme sought crusts to sate him—<br>Joyeux were those with horse’s meat,<br>And Pegasus! Je ate him!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My anger then Je could not hide—<br>To parler scarcely able<br>'Oh! curses dans you, sir!' Je cried;<br>'Vous human livery stable!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He fled! But vous who read this know<br>Why mon pauvre verse is beaten<br>By that of cinquante years ago<br>‘Vant Pegasus fut eaten!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ellis+Parker+Butler">Ellis Parker Butler</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384958" data-title="New England Magazine de Ellis Parker Butler" data-description="Upon Bottle Miche the autre day While yet the nuit was early, Je met a homme whose barbe was grey, Whose cheveaux long and curly. 'Je am a poete, sir,' dit he, 'Je live where tres grande want teems— I’m faim, sir. Sil vous plait give me Un fr..."></div> </div> </div>

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