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Poem by Hilaire Belloc Henry King The Chief Defect of Henry King Was chewing little bits of String. At last he swallowed some which tied Itself in ugly Knots inside. Physicians of the Utmost Fame Were called at once; but when they came They answered, as they took their Fees, ”There is no Cure for this Disease. ”Henry will very soon be dead.’’ His Parents stood about his Bed Lamenting his Untimely Death, When Henry, with his Latest Breath, Cried, ”Oh, my Friends, be warned by me, That Breakfast, Dinner, Lunch, and Tea Are all the Human Frame requires...’’ With that, the Wretched Child expires. Hilaire Belloc Hilaire Belloc's other poems: 1258 Views |
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