The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

496
WILL THE POPE DISGORGE HIS BULL?"
"THE BLANKET'S FREE TRADE: THE CORN-GORGED FOLK
IS THE BOA WITH PLENTY STIFLED!"
"THE BLANKET'S REFORM TO GAG THE MOB,
AND NAUGHT TO SATISFY!"
But I, a lofty and an abstract man,
A creature of a higher element
Than ever nourished the wood
Ordained for ballot-boxes--I
Say nothing; until a Keeper comes to me, and,
Hooking his fore-finger in his forehead's lock,
Says--"What's your opinion, Sir?
If Boas will bolt Blankets, Boas must:
If Snakes will rush upon their end, why not?"
"My friend," said I, "The Blanket and the Boa--
You will conceive me--are a type, yes, just a type,
Of this our day.
The dumb and monstrous, tasteless appetite
Of stupid Boa, to gobble up for food
What needs must scour or suffocate,
Not nourish!
My friend, let the wool of that one blanket
Warm but the back of one live sheep,
And the Boa would bolt the animal entire,
And flourish on his meal, transmuting flesh and bones,
And turning them to healthful nutriment!
Believe this vital truth;
The stomach may take down and digest
And sweetly, too, a leg of mutton;
That would turn at and reject
One little ball of worsted!"
On saying this I turned away,
Feeling adown the small-o'-the back
That gentle warmth that waits upon us, when WE KNOW
We have said a good thing;
Knowing it better than the vain world
Ever can or ever will