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Thomas Edward Brown
1830 - 1897

1     I bended unto me a bough of May,
2     That I might see and smell:
3     It bore it in a sort of way,
4     It bore it very well.
5     But, when I let it backward sway,
6     Then it were hard to tell
7     With what a toss, with what a swing,
8     The dainty thing
9     Resumed its proper level,
10   And sent me to the devil.
11   I know it did--you doubt it?
12   I turned, and saw them whispering about it.

© 2001 Elena and Yacov Feldman