Black Beetles in Amber - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 4

AN OBITUARIAN

Death-poet Pickering sat at his desk, Wrapped in appropriate gloom;His posture was pensive and picturesque, Like a raven charming a tomb.Enter a party a-drinking the cup Of sorrow—and likewise of woe:"Some harrowing poetry, Mister, whack up, All wrote in the key of O."For the angels has called my old woman hence From the strife (where she fit mighty free).It's a nickel a line? Cond—n the expense! For wealth is now little to me."The Bard of Mortality looked him through In the piercingest sort of a way:"It is much to me though it's little to you— I've taken a wife to-day."So he twisted the tail of his mental cow And made her give down her flow.The grief of that bard was long-winded, somehow— There was reams and reamses of woe.The widower man which had buried his wife Grew lily-like round each gill,For she turned in her grave and came back to life— Then he cruel ignored the bill!Then Sorrow she opened her gates a-wide, As likewise did also Woe,And the death-poet's song, as is heard inside, Is sang in the key of O.