More Toasts by Unknown
page 55 of 1010 (05%)
page 55 of 1010 (05%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
calkilate th' distance av a shtarr, its weight, and dinsity and color
and all thot--but th' thing thot gets me is, how th' divvle do they know its _name_." I think the stars do nod at me, But not when people are about; For they regard me curiously Whenever I go out. Brothers, what is it ye mean, What is it ye try to say. That so earnestly ye lean From the spirit to the clay? I may have been a star one day, One of the rebel host that fell, And they are nodding down to say. Come back to us from hell. AUTHORS A clever author is one who never asks what they are saying when he is told that everybody is talking about his latest book. |
|