Old Poetry Poetry • Poets • Essays • Forums •

No Go

Said a simpering Butterfly, sipping a rose,
To a graceless Mosquito on grandpapa's nose,
Whom she hoped to entrap,
"Pray come, Sir, and taste of this delicate stuff."
"Thanks, Madam, I'm just now taking my snuff,"
Quoth the impudent chap.

Leave a guest comment (subject to review)

    : Comment:

    Name: (required)
    Email: (required, hidden from spam)