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Dick Moss, my agent. Dick became my agent in 1979 when I signed my contract with the Houston Astros.

quote by Nolan Ryan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Now I'm Following You, Part 2

Let's dance, you can do a little two-step
I'll go anywhere that you step to, 'cause I'm following you.
My feet might be falling out of rhythm,
Don't know what I'm doing with them, but I know I'm following you.
Unlikely as it is to me, on the floor with two left feet
Let's boogie woogie till our hearts skip a beat, but who's counting?
Encore, once again around the dance floor
Romance is in the picture too, now I'm following you.
(Spoken:) Take it away, boys.
On the run.
Be the one.
On the run.
Spoken:
Yeah.
[Calling Dick Tracy, calling Dick Tracy]
[Come here Tracy, this is Sam, what are you doing up there?]
I'll tell ya.
[Calling Dick Tracy, calling Dick Tracy]
[Do you read me, Tracy?]
[To tell you the truth Tracy, I don't know.]
Find out.
An unexamined life is not worth living.
(Spoken:) Come over here!
Let's dance, you can do a little two-step
I'll go anywhere that you step to, 'cause I'm following you.
Encore, once again around the dance floor
Romance is in the picture too, now I'm following you.
But who's counting?
Spoken:
[Ten million, twenty million, thirty million]
What about Dick Tracy?
[Forty million]
Dick, that's an interesting name.
[Fifty million]
Dick Dick [Sixty million] Dick
Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick, [Seventy million], Dick,
Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick [Eighty million], Dick Dick Dick
Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick Dick
[Ninety million.]
Dick.
(Spoken:) My bottom hurts just thinking about it.
Unlikely as it is to me, on the floor with two left feet
Let's boogie woogie till our hearts skip a beat, but who's counting?
Encore, once again around the dance floor
Romance is in the picture too, now I'm following you.
(Spoken:) Would you knock it off please? Thank you

song performed by Madonna
Added by Lucian Velea
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Twin State

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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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69

Dick meets jane and a fire starts
Jane leaves dick and it breaks his heart
Dick asked jane, whyd you leave me?
Cause youre not dangerous, rough or sleazy
Now dicks dangerous
Now dicks rough
Now dicks sleazy
Nice guy dick dont live here anymore
Dick bought a swanky love pad down by the shore
Chorus
Hes going prime time
Online
69
All the girls come around to get dick
They all adore him now cause he acts like a prick
Each one tries to tie dick down
Dick never falls in love, on the girls start coming round
Dick dont fall for their sweetness
He knows their weakness
Dick knows a secret
Secret is dick leased himself a nice car
Girls like car
Girls like dick
Dick scores
Chorus
Solo
Suddenly jane wants back in dicks life
cause jane hears dicks a popular guy
Jane looks good, dick takes her home
Dick kicks hers out after he gets his bone
Now jane wants him
Now jane needs him
Now jane loves him
Jane loves dick now that she got the heave ho
Jane got what she wanted
Dick aint a nice guy no more
Chorus
Spoken by woman: but I want dick!
Solo

song performed by Poison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Houston Is Hot Tonight

Bright lights, Houston is hot tonight
Arabian shieks and money, up in the sky
Now I dont mind, a bloodbath, when Ive got oil, on my breath
???????? eye to eye, Houston is hot tonight
My brain is tired of the wind
Chicago winters, just do me in
Theyve got a moonman, on the telephone
Project X?, hey Houston control
???????? eye to eye, Houston
Its like, whats happening?
Houston is hot tonight
Houston is hot tonight
Houston is hot tonight
Houston is hot tonight
Houston is hot tonight
Houston is hot tonight
Houston is hot tonight

song performed by Iggy Pop
Added by Lucian Velea
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Box Car Harry

The railroad dick looked straight at him, eyes unwavering, beady-eyed, menacing, and Harry counted his change to see if there was enough for a bribe; searched his thoughts for an escape route, but he was not as young as he used to be and the dick was young, legs like a deer.

He tussled Barney’s hair and said:

“Go there in that thar car and wait for me, got to dump the dick. Wait for my whistle.”
Barney looked up him hesitantly and Harry stammered hoarsely

“Go! ”

Barney scrambled on all fours the way Harry had taught him and quickly disappeared under cover of the dark Chicago night.

Always, the dick against the Bos, the rich against the poor was Harry’s thought, been that way since her was born, the wanders, the lose, the lose people on the road trying to find an odd job and a meal, against the railroad fat cats trying to exterminate the railroad people, who what was just trying to get by.

Harry held his breath and told himself to concentrate and finally turned back to the dick and showed himself, full on so as the dick could get a good look at him. The dick wide-eyed and incredulous stared hard at Harry surprised by the brazenness of the tramp and stood stock still for a moment, prey in the eyes of the predator.

Harry swayed a little left and then a little right like a running back taunting the linebacker, which way boy, am I going to bolt, which way is the question. Harry feinted a dash to the right and the dick crouched right ready for the chase, Harry smiled and then feinted to the left, testing the dick’s reflexes. The dick danced to the left enjoying the thrilling moment before the chase.

Harry guessed Barney had had time to secure himself in the car and then dashed straight toward the dick, who was thoroughly surprised and steeled himself for what he thought would be a crash between the two men. But Harry at the last minute slanted right allowing the dick to remain close behind but not enough to lay hand on him.

He headed for track 13 for the Great Northern line car.
The dick was breathing behind him; Harry could hear his labored breaths, close enough but not close enough to grab, what was what Harry wanted.

He hit the Northern line yard and saw number 13 looming. The dick was laughing behind him yelping with the sheer joy of it all, feeling he had Harry cornered because the Northern lot was a closed in one, a big wall in the back, a closed station and of course cars, most closed.

But Harry was aiming toward 13 and left up into the car and waited for the dick to catch up and see him. Harry looked down at the man’s heaving chest smiling his best Harry smile.

To be Continued

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Nonsuited

“Dear Richard, come at once;”—so ran her letter;
The letter of a married female friend:
“She likes you both, and really knows no better
Than I myself do, how her choice will end.
Be sure of this, the first who pops will get her.
He's here for Chris——” Whatever else was penned
Dick never knew: nor knows he to this day
How he got drest, and mounted—and away!

Like arrow from the bow, like lightning-streak,
Including thunder following fierce and quick,
By ridge and flat, through scrub and foaming creek
Dick galloped like a very lunatic;
Whipped, jerked, and spurred, but never word did speak,
Although his thoughts rushed furious and thick,
Headed by one he strove in vain to wipe out,
The fear that this same “he” might put his pipe out.

And faster yet, and ever faster grew
The maddening music of the pace, until
The station-roofs gleamed suddenly in view,
Quivering in noon-heat on the vine-clad hill:
When all at once his bridle-rein he drew,
But not from craven fear or flagging will,—
Though, truth to tell, his heart a moment sank
To see the river nearly “bank and bank.”

For Bowstring was the choice of all his stud,
And he at least had no fair bride to win;
And wherefore should he risk him in the flood?—
A question Bowstring also asked within:
For though he was a squatter's horse by blood,
And held the grazing interest more than kin,
He eyed the huge logs wheeling, bobbing, bowling,
As if his soul objected to “log-rolling.”
And by that curious telegraphic force,
Outspeaking half-a-dozen formal speeches,
That works its quick inexplicable course
Through saddle-cloth, pigskin, and buckskin breeches,
Until the dumb opinion of a horse
Its sympathetic rider's spirit reaches—
Dick, feeling under him the strong flanks quiver,
Knew that his thoroughbred would funk the river

A moment more, Dick from his seat had leapt,
Ungirthed, uncurbed, unreined his trembling steed;
Who straightway vanished from his sight, nor kept
The high tradition of a loyal breed,
But quickened by no stimulus except
His own unbridled (and unsaddled) greed,

[...] Read more

poem by James Brunton Stephens
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The Reverend Simon Magus

A rich advowson, highly prized,
For private sale was advertised;
And many a parson made a bid;
The REVEREND SIMON MAGUS did.

He sought the agent's: "Agent, I
Have come prepared at once to buy
(If your demand is not too big)
The Cure of Otium-cum-Digge."

"Ah!" said the agent, "THERE'S a berth -
The snuggest vicarage on earth;
No sort of duty (so I hear),
And fifteen hundred pounds a year!

"If on the price we should agree,
The living soon will vacant be;
The good incumbent's ninety five,
And cannot very long survive.

See - here's his photograph - you see,
He's in his dotage." "Ah, dear me!
Poor soul!" said SIMON. "His decease
Would be a merciful release!"

The agent laughed - the agent blinked -
The agent blew his nose and winked -
And poked the parson's ribs in play -
It was that agent's vulgar way.

The REVEREND SIMON frowned: "I grieve
This light demeanour to perceive;
It's scarcely COMME IL FAUT, I think:
Now - pray oblige me - do not wink.

"Don't dig my waistcoat into holes -
Your mission is to sell the souls
Of human sheep and human kids
To that divine who highest bids.

"Do well in this, and on your head
Unnumbered honours will be shed."
The agent said, "Well, truth to tell,
I HAVE been doing very well."

"You should," said SIMON, "at your age;
But now about the parsonage.
How many rooms does it contain?
Show me the photograph again.

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Contract In Love

written by Lamont Dozier, Janie Bradford, & Brian Holland
(c) 1962 Jobete Music Co., Inc. (ASCAP)
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign it
Sign it
Sign it
Sign it
You say you love me
And I believe it's true
But before I let myself go
Here's what you've got to do
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
You've got to sign
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
My contract on love
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Write it in your heart
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
That you'll never do anything
To ever make us part
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
Yeah, I know it may seem strange to you
Yeah, but I've lost a love so many times before
Yeah, and now that I know the score
No one's gonna hurt me no more
And I'm takin' all my chances with romances
Yeah
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
So just sign
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Right here on this dotted line
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Where it says you'll be mine, all mine
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Until the end of time
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Contract On Love

Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign it
Sign it
Sign it
Sign it
You say you love me
And I believe its true
But before I let myself go
Heres what youve got to do
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
Youve got to sign
(you, you, youd better sign it)
My contract on love
(you, you, youd better sign it)
Write it in your heart
(you, you, youd better sign it)
That youll never do anything
To ever make us part
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
Yeah, I know it may seem strange to you
Yeah, but Ive lost a love so many times before
Yeah, and now that I know the score
No ones gonna hurt me no more
And Im takin all my chances with romances
Yeah
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
So just sign
(you, you, youd better sign it)
Right here on this dotted line
(you, you, youd better sign it)
Where it says youll be mine, all mine
(you, you, youd better sign it)
Until the end of time
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
So come on, come on, come on, and
Sign, yeah

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dreumshanbo Hustle

Transcribed by ear by David Chance
Notes from David Chance:
I transcribed these lyrics from the version performed on the Irish TV show Talk About Pop October 11, 1973 (sometimes dated September 11, 1973)...different from the P. Stone lyrics, but perhaps enough to help... For the guitarists here, the generic chord progression is G-Bm-C-D7...
See also the version released on The Philosopher's Stone
I was talkin' to the judge
just before we left the countryside,
paper in his hand,
tryin' to find a way.
Goin' by the book,
Man, you oughtta make a serial.
Ripped the pages out
'fore they pull the final curtain down.
I remember the day
just like the Drumshanbo hustle.
We couldn't hear no birds,
they were makin' not a sound.
They were tryin' to muscle in,
an easy way to bring the money in.
You were pukin' up your guts
when you read the contract had been signed.
Prostitution on the run,
'ceptin what it was last night.
Tryin' to drain you dry,
couldn't get too much rope.
Tryin' to take 'em down
just to see how far it all would go.
Wasn't goin' very far
and she didn't let it bring you down.
Just remember the day,
just like the Drumshanbo hustle.
I couldn't hear no birds,
they were makin' not a sound.
They were drivin' motionless
on the recording and the publishing.
You were pukin' up your guts
when you read the contract had been signed.
New York hooker style,
and the tarot and astronomy.
Tell you every star,
didn't even get your sign.
Well they were lookin' for a scam,
a little paperback novel or a little magazine,
but you left it all behind
when you pulled the rug from underneath her feet.
Just rememberin' the day,
Drumshanbo hustle.
Well you couldn't hear no birds,
they were makin' not a sound.
They were tryin' to muscle in,
an easy way to bring the money in.

[...] Read more

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Drumshanbo Hustle

I was talkin' to the judge
Just before we left the countryside,
Paper in his hand,
Tryin' to find a way.
Goin' by the book,
"man, you oughtta make a serial."
Ripped the pages out
'fore they pull the final curtain down.
I remember the day
Just like the drumshanbo hustle.
We couldn't hear no birds,
They were makin' not a sound.
They were tryin' to muscle in,
An easy way to bring the money in.
You were pukin' up your guts
When you read the contract had been signed.
Prostitution on the run,
'ceptin what it was last night.
Tryin' to drain you dry,
Couldn't get too much rope.
Tryin' to take 'em down
Just to see how far it all would go.
Wasn't goin' very far
And she didn't let it bring you down.
Just remember the day,
Just like the drumshanbo hustle.
I couldn't hear no birds,
They were makin' not a sound.
They were drivin' motionless
On the recording and the publishing.
You were pukin' up your guts
When you read the contract had been signed.
New york hooker style,
And the tarot and astronomy.
Tell you every star,
Didn't even get your sign.
Well they were lookin' for a scam,
A little paperback novel or a little magazine,
But you left it all behind
When you pulled the rug from underneath her feet.
Just rememberin' the day,
Drumshanbo hustle.
Well you couldn't hear no birds,
They were makin' not a sound.
They were tryin' to muscle in,
An easy way to bring the money in.
You were pukin' up your guts
When you read the actual contract had been signed.
You were pukin' up your guts
When you heard the contract had you signed.

[...] Read more

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours

Like a fool I went and stayed too long
Now I'm wondering if your love's still strong
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours
Then that time I went and said goodbye
Now I'm back and not ashamed to cry
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours
Here I am baby
Oh, you've got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)
Here I am baby,
Oh, you've got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed, delivered, I'm yours)
I've done alot of foolish things
That I really didn't mean
Hey, hey, yea, yea, didn't i, oh baby
Seen alot of things in this old world
When I touched them they did nothing, girl
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours, oh I'm yours
Oo-wee babe you set my soul on fire
That's why I know you are my only desire
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours
Here I am baby
Oh, you've got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)
Here I am baby,
Oh, you've got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed, delivered, I'm yours)
I've done alot of foolish things
That I really didn't mean
I could be a broken man but here I am
With your future, got your future babe (here I am baby)
Here I am baby (signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)
Here I am baby, (here I am baby)
Here I am baby (signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)
Here I am baby, (here I am baby)
Here I am baby (signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)

song performed by Michael Mcdonald
Added by Lucian Velea
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Signed, Sealed, Delivered Im Yours

Like a fool I went and stayed too long
Now Im wondering if your loves still strong
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, Im yours
Then that time I went and said goodbye
Now Im back and not ashamed to cry
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, Im yours
Here I am baby
Oh, youve got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed delivered, Im yours)
Here I am baby,
Oh, youve got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed, delivered, Im yours)
Ive done alot of foolish things
That I really didnt mean
Hey, hey, yea, yea, didnt i, oh baby
Seen alot of things in this old world
When I touched them they did nothing, girl
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, Im yours, oh Im yours
Oo-wee babe you set my soul on fire
Thats why I know you are my only desire
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, Im yours
Here I am baby
Oh, youve got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed delivered, Im yours)
Here I am baby,
Oh, youve got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed, delivered, Im yours)
Ive done alot of foolish things
That I really didnt mean
I could be a broken man but here I am
With your future, got your future babe (here I am baby)
Here I am baby (signed, sealed delivered, Im yours)
Here I am baby, (here I am baby)
Here I am baby (signed, sealed delivered, Im yours)
Here I am baby, (here I am baby)
Here I am baby (signed, sealed delivered, Im yours)

song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Old Spense

You've seen his place, I reckon, friend?
'Twas rather kind ov tryin'.
The way he made the dollars fly,
Such gimcrack things a-buyin'--
He spent a big share ov a fortin'
On pesky things that went a snortin'

And hollerin' over all the fields,
And ploughin' ev'ry furrow;
We sort ov felt discouraged, for
Spense wusn't one to borrow;
An' wus--the old chap wouldn't lend
A cent's wuth to his dearest friend!

Good land! the neighbours seed to wunst
Them snortin', screamin' notions
Wus jest enough tew drown the yearth
In wrath, like roarin' oceans,
'An' guess'd the Lord would give old Spense
Blue fits for fightin' Pruvidence!'

Spense wus thet harden'd; when the yearth
Wus like a bak'd pertater;
Instead ov prayin' hard fur rain,
He fetched an irrigator.
'The wicked flourish like green bays!'
Sed folks for comfort in them days.

I will allow his place was grand
With not a stump upon it,
The loam wus jest as rich an' black
Es school ma'am's velvet bunnit;
But tho' he flourish'd, folks all know'd
What spiritooal ear-marks he show'd.

Spense had a notion in his mind,
Ef some poor human grapples
With pesky worms thet eat his vines,
An' spile his summer apples,
It don't seem enny kind ov sense
Tew call that 'cheekin' Pruvidence!'

An' ef a chap on Sabbath sees
A thunder cloud a-strayin'
Above his fresh cut clover an'
Gets down tew steddy prayin',
An' tries tew shew the Lord's mistake,
Instead ov tacklin' tew his rake,

He ain't got enny kind ov show

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Soccer Under 20

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Alma; or, The Progress of the Mind. In Three Cantos. - Canto I.

Matthew met Richard, when or where
From story is not mighty clear:
Of many knotty points they spoke,
And pro and con by turns they took:
Rats half the manuscript have ate;
Dire hunger! which we still regret;
O! may they ne'er again digest
The horrors of so sad a feast;
Yet less our grief, if what remains,
Dear Jacob, by thy care and pains
Shall be to future times convey'd:
It thus begins:

** Here Matthew said,
Alma in verse, in prose, the mind,
By Aristotle's pen defined,
Throughout the body squat or tall,
Is
bona fide
, all in all;
And yet, slapdash, is all again
In every sinew, nerve, and vein;
Runs here and there, like Hamlet's ghost,
While every where she rules the roast.

This system, Richard, we are told
The men of Oxford firmly hold:
The Cambridge wits, you know, deny
With
ispe dixit
to comply:
They say (for in good truth they speak
With small respect of that old Greek)
That, putting all his words together,
'Tis three blue beans in one blue bladder.

Alma, they strenuously maintain,
Sits cock-horse on her throne, the brain,
And from that seat of thought dispenses,
Her sovereign pleasure to the senses.
Two optic nerves, they say, she ties,
Like spectacle across the eyes,
By which the spirits bring her word
Whene'er the balls are fix'd or stirr'd;
How quick at Park and play they strike;
The duke they court; the toast they like;
And at St. James's turn their grace
From former friends, now out of place.

Without these aids, to be more serious,

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Prior
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Houston

It's been three days, two hours
And a minute
Since she blasted off
Breaking every speed limit
As fast and far away from me
As she could get
Well, she said,
You'll straighten up one way or another
The Don't Mess With Texas bumper
Sticker on the bumper
Said it all as she drove off into the red sunset
She was right and I've learned my lesson
Here on out, I'm a man on a mission
Houston, we have a problem
If you can put a man on the moon
I'm sure there's something you can do
To help a love a little off course
Well, I'm losin' her,
Heaven knows I can't do that
I need her back
So come in Houston, we have a problem
She left with a suitcase full of resentment
She told me that I was afraid
Of commitment
She said don't call me baby, I'll call you
Well it's been days and I ain't
Heard nothing
Somebody's just got to do something
Houston, we have a problem
If you can put a man on the moon
I'm sure there's something you can do
To help a love a little off course
Well, I'm losin' her,
Heaven knows I can't do that
I need her back
So come in Houston, we have a problem
If I could do anything I would give everything
To make her come home
I only need a chance to say if
I could find a way
To let her know, come in
Houston, we have a problem
If you can put a man on the moon
I'm sure there's something you can do
To help a love a little off course
I'm losin' her, heaven knows I can't do that
I need her back
So come in Houston, we have a problem
We have a problem

song performed by Phil Vassar
Added by Lucian Velea
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Bridegroom Dick

1876

Sunning ourselves in October on a day
Balmy as spring, though the year was in decay,
I lading my pipe, she stirring her tea,
My old woman she says to me,
'Feel ye, old man, how the season mellows?'
And why should I not, blessed heart alive,
Here mellowing myself, past sixty-five,
To think o' the May-time o' pennoned young
fellows
This stripped old hulk here for years may
survive.

Ere yet, long ago, we were spliced, Bonny Blue,
(Silvery it gleams down the moon-glade o' time,
Ah, sugar in the bowl and berries in the prime!)
Coxswain I o' the Commodore's crew,--
Under me the fellows that manned his fine gig,
Spinning him ashore, a king in full fig.
Chirrupy even when crosses rubbed me,
Bridegroom Dick lieutenants dubbed me.
Pleasant at a yarn, Bob o' Linkum in a song,
Diligent in duty and nattily arrayed,
Favored I was, wife, and _fleeted_ right along;
And though but a tot for such a tall grade,
A high quartermaster at last I was made.

All this, old lassie, you have heard before,
But you listen again for the sake e'en o' me;
No babble stales o' the good times o' yore
To Joan, if Darby the babbler be.

Babbler?--O' what? Addled brains, they
forget!
O--quartermaster I; yes, the signals set,
Hoisted the ensign, mended it when frayed,
Polished up the binnacle, minded the helm,
And prompt every order blithely obeyed.
To me would the officers say a word cheery--
Break through the starch o' the quarter-deck
realm;
His coxswain late, so the Commodore's pet.
Ay, and in night-watches long and weary,
Bored nigh to death with the navy etiquette,
Yearning, too, for fun, some younker, a cadet,
Dropping for time each vain bumptious trick,
Boy-like would unbend to Bridegroom Dick.
But a limit there was--a check, d' ye see:
Those fine young aristocrats knew their degree.

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poem by Herman Melville
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Alma; or, The Progress of the Mind. In Three Cantos. - Canto II.

But shall we take the Muse abroad,
To drop her idly on the road,
And leave our subject in the middle,
As Butler did his Bear and Fiddle?
Yet he, consummate master, knew
When to recede and where pursue:
His noble negligence teach
What others' toils despair to reach.
He, perfect dancer, climbs the rope,
And balances your fear and hope.
If, after some distinguished leap,
He drops his pole, and seems to slip,
Straight gathering all his active strength,
He rises higher half his length:
With wonder you approve his sleight,
And owe your pleasure to your fright:
But like poor Andrew I advance,
False mimic of my master's dance;
Around the chord a while I sprawl,
And thence, though low, in earnest fall.

My preface tells you I digress'd;
He's half absolved who has confess'd.

I like, quoth Dick, your simile,
And in return take two from me.
As masters in the
clare-obscure

With various light your eyes allure,
A flaming yellow here they spread,
Draw off in blue, or change in red;
Yet from these colours oddly mix'd
Your sight upon the whole is fix'd:
Or as, again, your courtly dames
(Whose clothes returning birthday claims)
By arts improve the stuffs they vary,
And things are best as most contrary;
The gown with stiff embroidery shining,
Looks charming with a slighter lining;
Look out, if Indian figure stain,
The in-side must be rich and plain:
So you, great authors, have thought fit
To make digression temper wit:
You calm them with a milder air:
To break their points you turn their force,
And furbelow the plain discourse.

Richard, quoth Matt, these words of thine
Speak something sly and something fine;

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poem by Matthew Prior
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The Thorn

I

'There is a Thorn--it looks so old,
In truth, you'd find it hard to say
How it could ever have been young,
It looks so old and grey.
Not higher than a two years' child
It stands erect, this aged Thorn;
No leaves it has, no prickly points;
It is a mass of knotted joints,
A wretched thing forlorn.
It stands erect, and like a stone
With lichens is it overgrown.

II

'Like rock or stone, it is o'ergrown,
With lichens to the very top,
And hung with heavy tufts of moss,
A melancholy crop:
Up from the earth these mosses creep,
And this poor Thorn they clasp it round
So close, you'd say that they are bent
With plain and manifest intent
To drag it to the ground;
And all have joined in one endeavour
To bury this poor Thorn for ever.

III

'High on a mountain's highest ridge,
Where oft the stormy winter gale
Cuts like a scythe, while through the clouds
It sweeps from vale to vale;
Not five yards from the mountain path,
This Thorn you on your left espy;
And to the left, three yards beyond,
You see a little muddy pond
Of water--never dry
Though but of compass small, and bare
To thirsty suns and parching air.

IV

'And, close beside this aged Thorn,
There is a fresh and lovely sight,
A beauteous heap, a hill of moss,
Just half a foot in height.
All lovely colours there you see,
All colours that were ever seen;

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poem by William Wordsworth
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