Classic Poem

To-day I went into a shop where they sell spectacles.

“Sir,” said the shopman, “what can I do for you?
Are you far-sighted or near-sighted?”
“Neither the one nor the other,” said I.
“I can read the messages passing along the telegraph wires,
And I can see the antennae of a fly
Perched upon the bridge of my nose.”

“Rose-coloured spectacles, perhaps?” suggested the shopman.

“Indeed, no,” said I.
“Were I to add them to my natural vision
I should see everything ruined with blood.”

“Green spectacles,” opined the shopman.

“By no means,” said I.
“I am far too prone to that colour at moments.
No. You can give me some smoked glasses
For I have to meet a train this afternoon.”

“What a world yours must be, Sir.”
Observed the shopman as he wrapped up the spectacles,
“When it requires to be dimmed by smoked glasses.”

“Not a world,” said I, and laid the money down on the counter,
“Certainly not a world.