Poem by Thomas Moore

Of All the Men

Of all the men one meets about,
	There’s none like Jack – he’s everywhere: 
At church – park – auction – dinner – rout – 
	Go when  and where you will, he’s there. 

Try the West End, he’s at your back – 
	Meets you, like Eurus, in the East –  
You’re call’d upon for “How do, Jack?”
	One hundred times a day, at least. 

A friend of his one evening said,
	At home he took his pensive way, 
“Upon my soul, I fear Jack’s dead –
	I’ve seen him but three times to-day!”

1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 65
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 25
3. From “Irish Melodies”. 115. Song of Innisfail
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 34
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 74

Print

3703 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version