English poem
My first, men call thee wicked, and perhaps they may be…
by Carolyn Wells (1862–1942)
My first, men call thee wicked, and perhaps they may be right, Yet I contend thou shouldst be judged according to thy light.
My last, thou art a messenger received with joy or dread,— Frequently driven, very deaf, found in an humble shed.
My whole, of upright bearing, and found in many lands, In order to be seen of men, upon street-corners stands.
More by Carolyn Wells
- My first ’s a sum of money that I have never seen
- My first ’s a very common thing
- My first ’s possessed by men and dogs and goats
- My first, a graceful shape, a lady fair
- My first, of high degree
- My first, the Scriptures say, in Eden grew
- My first, though scrutinized with close inspections
- My first, untidy though thou art