![]() |
|
Arts & Entertainment Give meaning to your life or distract you from it for a while |
|
Thread Tools | Display Modes |
![]() |
#11 |
Kinda New Member
Join Date: Aug 2006
Posts: 1
|
Perhaps this thread deserves a bump
That Robert Rankin verse really stuck in my mind, It was what I was searching for when I found this thread. Here is one by Oliver Wendell Holmes The Last Leaf I saw him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan, And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, "They are gone!" The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb. My grandmamma has said-- Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago-- That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow; But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At the old forsaken bough Where I cling. |
![]() |
![]() |
Currently Active Users Viewing This Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests) | |
|
|