English poem
Iv
by John Stephen Farmer (1854–1916)
And he laid there, weighing out prayers for me, Without hearing the plates of meat Of a slop, who pinched him for "d. and d." And disturbing a peaceful beat, And I smiled as I closed my two mince pies In my insect promenade; For out of his nibs I had taken a rise, And his stay on the spot was barred.