Trash
I HAVE thrown more behind the grate
Than would have bought a fair estate.
And I might readily have sold
My drops of ink for grains of gold.
A bladder sounds with peas within,
Boys shake it and enjoy the din:
There is some poetry that bears
Its likeness, made for boyish ears.
Than would have bought a fair estate.
And I might readily have sold
My drops of ink for grains of gold.
A bladder sounds with peas within,
Boys shake it and enjoy the din:
There is some poetry that bears
Its likeness, made for boyish ears.
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