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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472336" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Poem Served To Order</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">PHI BETA KAPPA, JUNE 26, 1873</div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE Caliph ordered up his cook,<br>And, scowling with a fearful look<br>That meant,--We stand no gammon,--<br>'To-morrow, just at two,' he said,<br>'Hassan, our cook, will lose his head,<br>Or serve us up a salmon.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Great sire,' the trembling chef replied,<br>'Lord of the Earth and all beside,<br>Sun, Moon, and Stars, and so on<br>(Look in Eothen,-there you'll find<br>A list of titles. Never mind;<br>I have n't time to go on</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Great sire,' and so forth, thus he spoke,<br>'Your Highness must intend a joke;<br>It doesn't stand to reason<br>For one to order salmon brought,<br>Unless that fish is sometimes caught,<br>And also is in season.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Our luck of late is shocking bad,<br>In fact, the latest catch we had<br>(We kept the matter shady),<br>But, hauling in our nets,--alack!<br>We found no salmon, but a sack<br>That held your honored Lady!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Allah is great!' the Caliph said,<br>'My poor Zuleika, you are dead,<br>I once took interest in you.'<br>'Perhaps, my Lord, you'd like to know<br>We cut the lines and let her go.'<br>'Allah be praised! Continue.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'It is n't hard one's hook to bait,<br>And, squatting down, to watch and wait,<br>To see the cork go under;<br>At last suppose you've got your bite,<br>You twitch away with all your might,--<br>You've hooked an eel, by thunder!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Caliph patted Hassan's head<br>'Slave, thou hast spoken well,' he said,<br>'And won thy master's favor.<br>Yes; since what happened t' other morn<br>The salmon of the Golden Horn<br>Might have a doubtful flavor.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'That last remark about the eel<br>Has also justice that we feel<br>Quite to our satisfaction.<br>To-morrow we dispense with fish,<br>And, for the present, if you wish,<br>You'll keep your bulbous fraction.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Thanks! thanks!' the grateful chef replied,<br>His nutrient feature showing wide<br>The gleam of arches dental:<br>'To cut my head off wouldn't pay,<br>I find it useful every day,<br>As well as ornamental.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">. . . . . . . . . . . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Brothers, I hope you will not fail<br>To see the moral of my tale<br>And kindly to receive it.<br>You know your anniversary pie<br>Must have its crust, though hard and dry,<br>And some prefer to leave it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How oft before these youths were born<br>I've fished in Fancy's Golden Horn<br>For what the Muse might send me!<br>How gayly then I cast the line,<br>When all the morning sky was mine,<br>And Hope her flies would lend me!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now I hear our despot's call,<br>And come, like Hassan, to the hall,--<br>If there's a slave, I am one,--<br>My bait no longer flies, but worms!<br>I 've caught--Lord bless me! how he squirms!<br>An eel, and not a salmon!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oliver+Wendell+Holmes">Oliver Wendell Holmes</a><div class=q>
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THE Caliph ordered up his cook,
And, scowling with a fearful look
That meant,--We stand no gammon,--
'To-morrow, just at two,' he said,
'Hassan, our cook, will lose his head,
Or serve us up a salmon.'

'Great sire,' ..."></div>
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