I wake, the Sun does scatter into Flight
The Dreams of Happiness I have each Night,
O blessèd Dreams--full of Domestic Bliss,
Too soon alas! They're banished with the Light.
I'm going to tell in just the Briefest way
The cause of all my Anguish--if I may--
Then one and all will know the Reason why
My Mien is Solemn, and I am not Gay.
On Christmas day a good Friend did present
My Wife a Book; no doubt with best intent.
The "Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam" 'twas.
Little I dreamed the Woe of its Advent.
Pretty humorous poem about a husband's complaint.
Is The Iron Eagle a psychotic serial killer?
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