Page 15 - Petals of Flower-Revised_30thJune,2017
P. 15
Ere long had I nurs’d a fond hope
To pen.a satire, half as well as mocking Pope.
These lines, I now write, to my better-half are due: (5)
To the dreaded dining table is the scene ne’er new:
When ill-bred palate and insatiate tongue
O’er five star food and friv’lous habit is hung,
No feebler excuse doth one need to arouse
In the self-wil1ed spouse, lasting grouse! (10)
Vile ingratitude, Vanity, heart of stone,
Is thy name husband, or ‘nother name for groan:
To the sights and smells of kitchen strange:
The hissing Prestige, on the cooking range
Is unheard melody, but for the ears of Keats;
No shriller whistle was e’er blown at the heats.
What bubbling hope doth coffee’s vapours waft?
Which but to smell is to wield a secret craft,
Where smell is vision, and vision smell!
Thin throuoh the rising curls of aroma’s veil (20)
Lift I my head at the reluctant morn;
No more betwixt me and the bed is loyalty torn:
