En.Citatepedia^®.ro

A piteous plaint

I cannot eat my porridge,
I weary of my play;
No longer can I sleep at night,
No longer romp by day!
Though forty pounds was once my weight,
I'm shy of thirty now;
I pine, I wither and I fade
Through love of Martha Clow.

As she rolled by this morning
I heard the nurse girl say:
"She weighs just twenty-seven pounds
And she's one year old to-day."
I threw a kiss that nestled
In the curls upon her brow,
But she never turned to thank me--
That bouncing Martha Clow!

She ought to know I love her,
For I've told her that I do;
And I've brought her nuts and apples,
And sometimes candy, too!
I'd drag her in my little cart
If her mother would allow
That delicate attention
To her daughter, Martha Clow.

O Martha! pretty Martha!
Will you always be so cold?
Will you always be as cruel
As you are at one-year-old?
Must your two-year-old admirer
Pine as hopelessly as now
For a fond reciprocation
Of his love for Martha Clow?

You smile on Bernard Rogers
And on little Harry Knott;
You play with them at peek-a-boo
All in the Waller Lot!
Wildly I gnash my new-cut teeth
And beat my throbbing brow,
When I behold the coquetry
Of heartless Martha Clow!

I cannot eat my porridge,
Nor for my play care I;
Upon the floor and porch and lawn
My toys neglected lie;
But on the air of Halsted street
I breathe this solemn vow:
"Though she be false, I will be true
To pretty Martha Clow!"

poem by Eugene Field
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Martha

SEXTON! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Her weary hands their labor cease;
Good night, poor Martha,-- sleep in peace!
Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha 's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
For many a year has Martha said,
"I'm old and poor,-- would I were dead!"
Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
She'll bring no more, by day or night,
Her basket full of linen white.
Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
'Tis fitting she should lie below
A pure white sheet of drifted snow.
Toll the bell!

Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Sleep, Martha, sleep, to wake in light,
Where all the robes are stainless white.
Toll the bell!

poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Martha Say

Written by John Mellencamp
Martha say she don't need no stinking man making no decisions for her.
She don't need his money, she don't need him between the sheets,
She ain't gonna sleep on the edge of the bed for no stinking man.
And that's the way she lives 'cause I saw her last night
Pouring water on a drowning man in the moonlight, saying:
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother,
Hi-de-hi-de-hey now, Martha.
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, sister.
Say what, hey you, look out, Martha.
Martha say she don't need no revolver to shoot some idiot down.
She can do it with her eyes, she can do it with her smile,
She can do it with a conversation just walking down the hall.
Man, now ain't that the truth 'cause i saw her take a bite out of
Some macho dude laying some corn ball line on her last night, saying:
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother,
Hi-de-hi-de-hey now, Martha.
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, sister.
Say what, hey you, look out, Martha.
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother. (Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother.)
Hi-de-hi-de-ho, sister. (Hi-de-hi-de-hi, yeah.)
Hi-de-hi-de-hi. (Hi-de-hi-de-ho, yeah.)
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, Martha.
Say what, look out, shake it up Martha.
Martha say say she ain't changin', no nothin' for nobody for
no damn good reason.
It's the way that she wants it, it's the way that she gets it.
Well, the girl loves playing hardball, it leaves me in a
no win situation saying:
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother,
Hi-de-hi-de-hey now, Martha.
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, sister.
Say what, hey you, look out, Martha.
Repeat
Martha say she don't need no stinking man making no decisions for her.

song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Martha

(Written by Dave Colwell, Carnes, Finley, Lister)
Hello little Martha
There you stand with the stems of the roses still in your hand
The seasons of time
The weather, your face, you little Martha, there's no disgrace
So now little Martha, here you live
You're just 12 years old, have no time to play
The sun don't arise when you're not in my eyes
Not a day goes by without you
Even though you're looking down on me
Tell me angel, will you remember me?
Oh little Martha, as I stand at your feet
I see now that the circle is ought to complete
Now while I stand here feeling so sad
Because we both know the good times we had
So now little Martha, here you live
Your life is all gone, no time to play, oh
The sun don't arise when you're not in my eyes
Not a day goes by without you
Even though you're looking down on me
Tell me angel
The sun don't arise when you're not in my eyes
Not a day goes by without you
Even though you're looking down on me
Tell me angel, will you remember me?
Oh little Martha

song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deaf Martha

Poor Martha is old, and her hair is turn'd grey,
And her hearing has left her for many a year;
Ten to one if she knows what it is that you say,
Though she puts her poor wither'd hand close to her ear.

I've seen naughty children run after her fast,
And cry, "Martha, run, there's a bullock so bold;"
And when she was frighten'd, ­laugh at her at last,
Because she believed the sad stories they told.

I've seen others put their mouths close to her ear,
And make signs as if they had something to say;
And when she said, "Master, I'm deaf and can't hear,"
Point at her and mock her, and scamper away.

Ah! wicked the children poor Martha to tease,
As if she had not enough else to endure;
They rather should try her affliction to ease,
And soothe a disorder that nothing can cure.

One day, when those children themselves are grown old,
And one may be deaf, and another be lame,
Perhaps they may find that some children, as bold,
May tease them, and mock them, and serve them the same.

Then, when they reflect on the days of their youth,
A faithful account will their consciences keep,
And teach them, with shame and with sorrow, the truth,
That "what a man soweth, the same shall he reap."

poem by Ann Taylor
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Martha My Dear

Martha my dear though i spend my days in conversation
Please
Remember me martha my love
Don't forget me martha my dear
Hold your head up you silly girl look what you've done
When you find yourself in the thick of it
Help yourself to a bit of what is all around you
Silly girl.
Take a good look around you
Take a good look you're bound to see
That you and me were meant to be for each other
Silly girl.
Hold your hand out you silly girl see what you've done
When you find yourself in the thick of it
Help yourself to a bit of what is all around you
Silly girl.
Martha my dear you have always been my inspiration
Please
Be good to me martha my love
Don't forget me martha my dear.

song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Martha

Operator number please.
Its been so many years.
And shell remember my old voice.
While I fight the tears.
Hello, hello there is this martha?
This is old tom frost.
And I am calling long distance.
Dont worry about the cost.
Its been 40 years or more.
Now martha please recall.
And meet me out for coffee.
Where well talk about it all.
And those were days of roses.
Poetry and prose and martha.
And all I had was you and all you had was me.
And there was no tomorrows.
As we packed away our sorrows.
And we saved it for a rainy day.
And I feel so much older now.
And youre much older too.
Oh hows the husband hows the kids?
You know that I got married too!
Oh lucky that ya found someone.
To make ya feel secure.
Oh cause we were all so young and foolish.
And now we are mature.
And those were days of roses.
Poetry and prose and martha.
And all I had was you and all you had was me.
And there was no tomorrows.
As we packed away our sorrows.
And we saved it for a rainy day.
And I was so implusive.
I guess that I still am.
But all that really mattered then.
Was that I was a man.
I guess that our being together.
Was never meant to be.
Oh but martha, martha I love you.
Cant you see.
And those were days of roses.
Poetry and prose and martha.
And all I had was you and all you had was me.
And there was no tomorrows.
As we packed away our sorrows.
And we saved it for a rainy day.
And I remember quiet evenings.
Trembling close to you.

song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The delectable ballad of the waller lot

Up yonder in Buena Park
There is a famous spot,
In legend and in history
Yclept the Waller Lot.

There children play in daytime
And lovers stroll by dark,
For 't is the goodliest trysting-place
In all Buena Park.

Once on a time that beauteous maid,
Sweet little Sissy Knott,
Took out her pretty doll to walk
Within the Waller Lot.

While thus she fared, from Ravenswood
Came Injuns o'er the plain,
And seized upon that beauteous maid
And rent her doll in twain.

Oh, 't was a piteous thing to hear
Her lamentations wild;
She tore her golden curls and cried:
"My child! My child! My child!"

Alas, what cared those Injun chiefs
How bitterly wailed she?
They never had been mothers,
And they could not hope to be!

"Have done with tears," they rudely quoth,
And then they bound her hands;
For they proposed to take her off
To distant border lands.

But, joy! from Mr. Eddy's barn
Doth Willie Clow behold
The sight that makes his hair rise up
And all his blood run cold.

He put his fingers in his mouth
And whistled long and clear,
And presently a goodly horde
Of cow-boys did appear.

Cried Willie Clow: "My comrades bold,
Haste to the Waller Lot,
And rescue from that Injun band
Our charming Sissy Knott!"

"Spare neither Injun buck nor squaw,
But smite them hide and hair!
Spare neither sex nor age nor size,
And no condition spare!"

Then sped that cow-boy band away,
Full of revengeful wrath,
And Kendall Evans rode ahead
Upon a hickory lath.

And next came gallant Dady Field
And Willie's brother Kent,
The Eddy boys and Robbie James,
On murderous purpose bent.

For they were much beholden to
That maid - in sooth, the lot
Were very, very much in love
With charming Sissy Knott.

What wonder? She was beauty's queen,
And good beyond compare;
Moreover, it was known she was
Her wealthy father's heir!

Now when the Injuns saw that band
They trembled with affright,
And yet they thought the cheapest thing
To do was stay and fight.

So sturdily they stood their ground,
Nor would their prisoner yield,
Despite the wrath of Willie Clow
And gallant Dady Field.

Oh, never fiercer battle raged
Upon the Waller Lot,
And never blood more freely flowed
Than flowed for Sissy Knott!

An Injun chief of monstrous size
Got Kendall Evans down,
And Robbie James was soon o'erthrown
By one of great renown.

And Dady Field was sorely done,
And Willie Clow was hurt,
And all that gallant cow-boy band
Lay wallowing in the dirt.

But still they strove with might and main
Till all the Waller Lot
Was strewn with hair and gouts of gore -
All, all for Sissy Knott!

Then cried the maiden in despair:
"Alas, I sadly fear
The battle and my hopes are lost,
Unless some help appear!"

Lo, as she spoke, she saw afar
The rescuer looming up -
The pride of all Buena Park,
Clow's famous yellow pup!

"Now, sick'em, Don," the maiden cried,
"Now, sick'em, Don!" cried she;
Obedient Don at once complied -
As ordered, so did he.

He sicked'em all so passing well
That, overcome by fright,
The Indian horde gave up the fray
And safety sought in flight.

They ran and ran and ran and ran
O'er valley, plain, and hill;
And if they are not walking now,
Why, then, they're running still.

The cow-boys rose up from the dust
With faces black and blue;
"Remember, beauteous maid," said they,
"We've bled and died for you!"

"And though we suffer grievously,
We gladly hail the lot
That brings us toils and pains and wounds
For charming Sissy Knott!"

But Sissy Knott still wailed and wept,
And still her fate reviled;
For who could patch her dolly up -
Who, who could mend her child?

Then out her doting mother came,
And soothed her daughter then;
"Grieve not, my darling, I will sew
Your dolly up again!"

Joy soon succeeded unto grief,
And tears were soon dried up,
And dignities were heaped upon
Clow's noble yellow pup.

Him all that goodly company
Did as deliverer hail -
They tied a ribbon round his neck,
Another round his tail.

And every anniversary day
Upon the Waller Lot
They celebrate the victory won
For charming Sissy Knott.

And I, the poet of these folk,
Am ordered to compile
This truly famous history
In good old ballad style.

Which having done as to have earned
The sweet rewards of fame,
In what same style I did begin
I now shall end the same.

So let us sing: Long live the King,
Long live the Queen and Jack,
Long live the ten-spot and the ace,
And also all the pack.

poem by Eugene Field
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A bottle of wolf’s poison

At dusk little Martha walks
pass the back of the old house
that is build of heaped blue Jacob stone

and her older sister who has to watch her
is a distance away in the orchard
where she is catching small gnats
with shouts of joy.

The sun glows orange red
on the horizon and the rays hits
a brown bottle that protrudes
from one of the cracks of the Jacob rocks

and at a distance
it looks to three-year-old Martha
like her mother’s kitchen knife
and quickly she walks closer
on her little feet
and she tries to take it, but it is stuck tight.

With a long stick
she digs the bottle out,
bites it open with her small teeth
and there’s pink liquid
that flows down her throat.

Still she wonders
what this bottle is doing here
and goes round the corner
into the kitchen
where she finds her mother
and gives the bottle to her.

Her mother turns white from fright
as it is wolf’s poison
and deadly strong
and her shout is so loud
that three of Martha’s older brothers
run in from the outside.

“Go and milk one of the cows
and bring some more milk, hurry”
is said to Pieter
and she takes a bucket of milk
from the pantry
and pour some in a glass for Martha to drink
while Pieter runs
as fast as he can to the stable.

“Drink sis drink, ” Martha is begged
and glass after glass is given to her
until she starts to vomit
and still they beg her to drink
while they pour some more glasses of milk

and the pink poison
comes out with the vomit
and Pieter brings some more
fresh hot milk
and pours the jug out
and Martha shakes and cries

and they beg her to drink
and still more is poured into glasses
and she drinks
until she vomits the entire poison out.

[Reference: Wolf’s poison is strychnine.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Martha And Mary

Martha her love and joy expressed
By care to entertain her guest;
While Mary sat to hear her Lord,
And could not bear to lose a word.

The principle in both the same,
Produced in each a different aim;
The one to feast the Lord was led,
The other waited to be fed.

But Mary chose the better part,
Her Saviour's words refreshed her heart;
While busy Martha angry grew,
And lost her time and temper too.

With warmth she to her sister spoke,
But brought upon herself rebuke;
One thing is needful, and but one,
Why do thy thoughts on many run?

How oft are we like Martha vexed,
Encumbered, hurried, and perplexed!
While trifles so engross our thought,
The one thing needful is forgot.

Lord teach us this one thing to choose,
Which they who gain can never lose;
Sufficient in itself alone,
And needful, were the world our own.

Let groveling hearts the world admire,
Thy love is all that I require!
Gladly I may the rest resign,
If the one needful thing be mine!

poem by John Newton
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An Eighth of a Lemon

For Martha in the early years
life was recess, nothing more.
She knelt on asphalt,
quartered oranges for kittens

who never lost stringed mittens,
whose London Bridges
never fell down.
For Martha now,

life's Parkview Manor
where a woman in white,
three times a day, bleeds
an eighth of a lemon into her tea.

poem by Donal Mahoney
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I did go through a period where I was on unemployment. That was my low point: Martha Quinn on line at unemployment, hoping nobody will recognize her.

quote by Martha Quinn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Insatiable

Turn the lights off, strike a candle
No one that Ive ever, knows how 2 handle my body
The way u truly do
Insatiables my name when it comes 2 u
I got a jones, martha
Oh yeah, it be like this (I cant have a hug)
I cant have a hug (unless)
Unless I have a kiss
My body, baby, u truly do
Insatiables my name when it comes 2 u
Like a wildcat, martha, in a celibate rage
I want your love, in my dirty little cage
Can u understand, martha?
My body, baby, u truly do
Insatiables my name when it comes 2 u
2 night we video...
No one will ever know
Well erase the naughty bits
Ill show my...
If you show your...
I cant help it, martha {insatiable repeated in the background}
I cant help what u do 2 me
U are my every fantasy
Theres no telling how far Id go
Cuz when it comes 2 u, I know
Im insatiable and I just cant stop
Even if I wasnt thirsty,
I would drink every drop
Please, baby, dont say no
Cuz Ill surely go crazy
Ok, so all u do is push the little red button...
And I belong 2 u and your little video box
Hey - dont look at the clock, yeah
Its 2:45, we got all night
First u gotta tell me what u want me to do
My body, baby, u truly do
Insatiables my name when it comes 2 u
Theres no tellin how far Id go
Cuz when it comes 2 u, I know
Im insatiable and I just cant stop
Even if I wasnt thirsty,
I would drink every drop
So take it slow baby, and lets unwind
Do u really want all my clothes off? (yes)
What are u gonna do to prove it?
Arent u afraid were gonna be found out?
Well, lets get on with the show
Turn the lights down low (turn the lights down lower)
Doesnt my body look good in the shadows?
Baby knows what 2 do
Have u done this before? (I dont know)
U say u want my hips up in the air? (yeah)
I dont know, I dont care
(my body, baby, u truly do)
I know I could be nasty with u
(up and down, just like a seesaw) ((back and forth))
(back and forth)
Listen (oh girl, Im fallin)
I love u, baby
I love u baby, youre mine
Ure nastier than I thought
Its just 2:49...

song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark-Browed Martha

When the frost-king clothed the forests
In a flood of gorgeous dyes,
Death called little dark-browed Martha
To her mansion in the skies.
'Twas a calm October Sabbath
When the bell with solemn sound
Knelled her to her quiet slumbers
Low down in the darksome ground.

Far away, where sun and summer
Reign in glory all the year,
Was the land she left behind her,
To her simple heart so dear.
There a mother and a brother,
Meeting oft at close of day,
Spoke in tender, tearful whispers
Of the loved one far away.

'I am thinking,' said the mother,
'How much Martha'll get to know,
And how smart and bright 'twill make her,
Travellin' round the country so.
'Spect she'll be a mighty lady,
Shinin' jewels in her ears;
But I hope she won't forget us,--
Dat is what dis poor heart fears.'

''Deed she won't,' then spoke the brother,
'Martha'll love us just as well
As before she parted from us,--
Trust me, mammy, I can tell.'
Then he passed a hand in silence
O'er his damp and swarthy brow,
Brushed a tear from off the eyelid,--
'O that she were with us now!'

'Pshaw! don't cry, Lem,' said the mother,
'There's no need of that at all;
Massa said he'd bring her to us
When the nuts began to fall.
The pecans will soon be rattling
From the tall plantation trees,
She'll be here to help us pick them,
Brisk and merry as you please.'

Thus they talked, while she they waited
From the earth had passed away;
Walked no more in pleasant places,
Saw no more the light of day;
Knew no more of toilsome labor,
Spiteful threats or angry blows;
For the Heavenly One had called her
Early from a life of woes.

Folded we the tiny fingers
On the cold, unmoving breast;
Robed her in a decent garment,
For her long and dreamless rest;
And when o'er the tranquil Sabbath
Evening's rays began to fall,
Followed her with heavy footsteps
To the home that waits us all.

As we paused beside the churchyard,
Where the tall green maples rise,
Strangers came and viewed the sleeper,
With sad wonder in their eyes;
While my thoughts flew to that mother,
And that brother far away:
How they'd weep and wail, if conscious
This was Martha's burial day!

When the coffin had been lowered
Carefully into the ground,
And the heavy sods fell on it
With a cold and hollow sound,
Thought I, as we hastened homewards,
By the day's expiring light,
Martha never slept so sweetly
As she'll sleep this Sabbath night.

poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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At play

Play that you are mother dear,
And play that papa is your beau;
Play that we sit in the corner here,
Just as we used to, long ago.
Playing so, we lovers two
Are just as happy as we can be,
And I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
"I love you" we both shall say,
All in earnest and all in play.

Or, play that you are that other one
That some time came, and went away;
And play that the light of years agone
Stole into my heart again to-day!
Playing that you are the one I knew
In the days that never again may be,
I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
I love you!" my heart shall say
To the ghost of the past come back to-day!

Or, play that you sought this nestling-place
For your own sweet self, with that dual guise
Of your pretty mother in your face
And the look of that other in your eyes!
So the dear old loves shall live anew
As I hold my darling on my knee,
And I'll say "I love you" to you,
And you say "I love you" to me!
Oh, many a strange, true thing we say
And do when we pretend to play!

poem by Eugene Field
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Turning Point

Martha holmes
See the little brown girl
Shes as old as me
She looks just like chocolate
Oh mummy cant you see
We are both in first grade
She sits next to me
I took care of her mum
When she skinned her knee
She sang a song so pretty
On the jungle jim
When jimmy tried to hurt her
I punched him in the chin
Mom can she come over
To play dolls with me
We could have such fun mum
Oh mum whatd you say
Why noy oh why not
Oh I see

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was privileged to be able to study a year with Martha Graham, the last year she was teaching.

quote by Twyla Tharp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When you helped somebody, right away you were responsible for that person. And things always followed for which you were never prepared.

Martha Brooks in True Confessions of a Heartless Girl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Martha

"Once...Once upon a time..."
Over and over again,
Martha would tell us her stories,
In the hazel glen.

Hers were those clear gray eyes
You watch, and the story seems
Told by their beautifulness
Tranquil as dreams.

She'd sit with her two slim hands
Clasped round her bended knees;
While we on our elbows lolled,
And stared at ease.

Her voice and her narrow chin,
Her grave small lovely head,
Seemed half the meaning
Of the words she said.

"Once...Once upon a time..."
Like a dream you dream in the night,
Fairies and gnomes stole out
In the leaf-green light.

And her beauty far away
Would fade, as her voice ran on,
Till hazel and summer sun
And all were gone:--

All fordone and forgot;
And like clouds in the height of the sky,
Our hearts stood still in the hush
Of an age gone by.

poem by Walter de la Mare
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Martha My Dear

Martha my dear I'm sorry to hear
The bittersweet end of your nations song
once there were legions of delicate wings
And a choir of millions in a vaulted horizon
They lay retired performing a solemn requiem
Embodied in you the guardian of sorrow

A legend in flesh from the moment of birth
Just a moving epitaph and a myth that could breath
Convicted souvinir in a gilded cage for tourist
For the carrions desert, for holiday recollections
Destined to reside as a bittersweet lesson
What you never know to cherish or take refuge in

Is gone before the tone of midnight strock

Martha never heard the calls of spring
Or bathe in the rays of the summertime parade
She reigned as a queen to an endless winter
Entomed on a thrown where the sun casts no warmth
Wings impoverished to the chains of fates visitation
Harvested and reaped, bid her grand destination

Martha my dear I'm sorry you were lifes ghost
A speck of dust on the atmospheric crust
Navigating alone on a distant azure highway
Without contemplation of a sibling revalry
Or the tender caress of a symmetrical companion
Forever the world as a hollow mausoleum

I wounder if she dreamed for a saviour
For a phoenix's arrival for a fairytale solution
To pinion its feathers and enfold consolation
To sacrifice tears that shed all her fears
Untying the knot that history had wrought
The unwanted honour of eve to extinction

Martha my dear Im sorry that your gone
Passed without hope of dawns lost rays
Before you emerged from your mothers womb
Life never came to you who came to soon
Let there be a light in a elysium kingdom
Far away in the sight of eternal freedom

You were lost but found in the peace of dreams
So sleep now in the land of the sandmans garden
Where you can soar as a Icarious without fear in the sun
Or the albatross wreathed as the mariners cross
Free from the strings as the reapers paramour
Away in sunlight that never drifts into midnights call

Play forever in the moment of eternal everlasting
Martha my dear, mans painful darling lesson

poem by Kevin Patrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lizards And Snakes

On the summer road that ran by our front porch
Lizards and snakes came out to sun.
It was hot as a stove out there, enough to scorch
A buzzard's foot. Still, it was fun
To lie in the dust and spy on them. Near but remote,
They snoozed in the carriage ruts, a smile
In the set of the jaw, a fierce pulse in the throat
Working away like Jack Doyle's after he'd run the mile.

Aunt Martha had an unfair prejudice
Against them (as well as being cold
Toward bats.) She was pretty inflexible in this,
Being a spinster and all, and old.
So we used to slip them into her knitting box.
In the evening she'd bring in things to mend
And a nice surprise would slide out from under the socks.
It broadened her life, as Joe said. Joe was my friend.

But we never did it again after the day
Of the big wind when you could hear the trees
Creak like rocking chairs. She was looking away
Off, and kept saying, "Sweet Jesus, please
Don't let him near me. He's as like as twins.
He can crack us like lice with his fingernail.
I can see him plain as a pikestaff. Look how he grins
And swings the scaly horror of his folded tail."

poem by Anthony Evan Hecht
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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