Stones from The Quarry or, Moods of Mind. By Henry Browne [i.e. Henry Ellison] |
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TO A MERE ANATOMY OF A MAN. |
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 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
TO A MERE ANATOMY OF A MAN.
Thou shrivelled wind-bag! Take thee all in all,There is not fat enough to fry a sole
About thee,—fish I mean, thou parchment-roll,
Not th' other sort of soul, the spiritual;
Thou might'st be all soul, for anything we call
A body proper. Thou'rt the merest droll
And scrabbled form of man; papyrus-scroll
Of mummy; man writ backwards, very small!
The best use one could turn thee to would be
To bind in parchment (vellum thou'dst not make)
Jest-book, or treatise on anatomie.
How thou may'st feel within it makes one ache
To think. How thy poor soul must long to flee,
If soul thou hast, like martyr tied to stake!
| Stones from The Quarry | |