William Schwenck Gilbert (Уильям Швенк Гилберт)

Poetry Everywhere

What time the poet hath hymned
The writhing maid, lithe-limbed,
Quivering on amaranthine asphodel,
How can he paint her woes,
Knowing, as well he knows,
That all can be set right with calomel?

When from the poet's plinth
The amorous colocynth
Yearns for the aloe, faint with rapturous thrills,
How can he hymn their throes
Knowing, as well he knows,
That they are only uncompounded pills?

Is it, and can it be,
Nature hath this decree,
Nothing poetic in the world shall dwell?
Or that in all her works
Something poetic lurks,
Even in colocynth and calomel? 

1. The Bab Ballads. Sir Macklin
2. The Bab Ballads. To the Terrestrial Globe
3. The Bab Ballads. Peter the Wag
4. The Bab Ballads. General John
5. The Bab Ballads. Thomas Winterbottom Hance

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