“No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,/No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,/November!”

For Poetry Monday:

To Minerva, Thomas Hood

My temples throb, my pulses boil,
    I’m sick of Song and Ode, and Ballad—
So, Thrysis, take the Midnight Oil
    And pour it on a lobster salad.

My brain is dull, my sight is foul,
    I cannot write a verse, or read—
Then, Pallas, take away thine Owl,
    And let us have a lark instead.


Something light to cleanse the palate of last week’s poem. Hood (1799-1845) was a humorist and poet, best known during his life for his comic work, especially his puns, but largely remembered today for his social-protest poetry.

---L.

Subject quote from No!, Thomas Hood.