XXX.

I wonder if his appetite was good?

Or, if it were, if also his digestion?

Methinks at meals some odd thoughts might intrude,

And Conscience ask a curious sort of question,

About the right divine how far we should

Sell flesh and blood. When dinner has oppressed one,

I think it is perhaps the gloomiest hour

Which turns up out of the sad twenty-four.

Share on Twitter Share on Facebook