 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
Says Cain—“It's beautiful, it is!
A splendid exposition,” he says—
“Splendid, splendid! Dear me! the way
That Scripthar was opened, just like day,”
He said, “like day. But how? But how?”
Was it larnin'? “No, I trow”:
Was it readin', was it study?
Was it pokin' in the muddy
Waters of the carnal mind,
Pokin', pokin', till you're nearly blind—
Was it? And he looked around,
And he smiled like butter a shillin' the pound—
“No!” he says, “it's just the habirtual
Comparin' spir'tual things with spir'tual”—
And—“Hem!” he said, and ups with the eyes,
And smacks his lips like somethin' nice.
A splendid exposition,” he says—
“Splendid, splendid! Dear me! the way
That Scripthar was opened, just like day,”
He said, “like day. But how? But how?”
Was it larnin'? “No, I trow”:
313
Was it pokin' in the muddy
Waters of the carnal mind,
Pokin', pokin', till you're nearly blind—
Was it? And he looked around,
And he smiled like butter a shillin' the pound—
“No!” he says, “it's just the habirtual
Comparin' spir'tual things with spir'tual”—
And—“Hem!” he said, and ups with the eyes,
And smacks his lips like somethin' nice.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |