That poetry meme...
Oct. 17th, 2004 12:03 amMost recently found here.
I'm so torn. So I'll post several!
Some say the world will end in fire,
Other's say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire,
I side with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great, and would suffice.
May I ask if you have noticed,
May I ask if you have seen
My minnow, Minnie, who was swimming in your Ovaltine?
For you've gone and drunk it up, dear.
And she isn't in the cup, dear.
And she's nowhere to be found, dear.
Do you think that she has drowned, dear?
Whose woods these are, I think I know
His house is in the village, though.
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
The little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the forest and the lake,
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
These woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep.
I give you now Professor Twist.
A conscientious scientist.
Trustees exclaimed "He never bungles!"
And sent him off to distant jungles.
While camping by the riverside,
One day he missed his loving bride.
She had, the guide informed him later,
Been eaten by an alligator.
Professor Twist could not but smile.
"You mean," he said, "a crocodile."
I'm so torn. So I'll post several!
Some say the world will end in fire,
Other's say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire,
I side with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great, and would suffice.
May I ask if you have noticed,
May I ask if you have seen
My minnow, Minnie, who was swimming in your Ovaltine?
For you've gone and drunk it up, dear.
And she isn't in the cup, dear.
And she's nowhere to be found, dear.
Do you think that she has drowned, dear?
Whose woods these are, I think I know
His house is in the village, though.
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
The little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the forest and the lake,
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
These woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep.
I give you now Professor Twist.
A conscientious scientist.
Trustees exclaimed "He never bungles!"
And sent him off to distant jungles.
While camping by the riverside,
One day he missed his loving bride.
She had, the guide informed him later,
Been eaten by an alligator.
Professor Twist could not but smile.
"You mean," he said, "a crocodile."