Classic Poem

Water-green is the flowing pollard
In Drowsytown; a smocked dullard
Sits upon the noodle-
Soft and milky grass —
Clownish-white was that fopdoodle
As he watched the brown bear pass. . . .
" Who speaks of Alexander
And General Hercules,
And who speaks of Lysander?
For I am strong as these!
The housekeeper's old rug
Is shabby brown as me,
And if I wished to hug
Those heroes, they would flee —
For always when I show affection
They take the contrary direction.
I passed the barrack square
In nodding Drowsytown —
Where four-and-twenty soldiers stare
Through slits of windows at the Bear"
(So he told the Clown).
" Twelve were black as Night the Zambo"
(Black shades playing at dumb crambo!),
" Twelve were gilded as the light,
Goggling Negro eyes of fright.
There they stood and each mentero,
Striped and pointed, leaned to Zero . . .
Grumbling footsteps of the Bear
Came near . . . they did fade in air,
The window shut and they were gone.
The Brown Bear lumbered on alone."
So he told the smocked fopdoodle,
White and flapping as the air,
Sprawling on the grass for pillow —
(Milky soft as any noodle)
'Neath the water-green willow
There in Drowsytown
Where one crumpled cottage nods —
Nodding
Nodding
Down.