The Ingoldsby Legends, by Thomas Ingoldsby

The Poplar.

Ay, here stands the Poplar, so tall and so stately,

On whose tender rind — ’twas a little one then —

We carved her initials; though not very lately —

We think in the year eighteen hundred and ten.

Yes, here is the G which proclaimed Georgiana;

Our heart’s empress then; see, ’tis grown all askew;

And it’s not without grief we perforce entertain a

Conviction, it now looks much more like a Q.

This should be the great D too, that once stood for Dobbin,

Her lov’d patronymic — ah! can it be so?

It’s once fair proportions, time too, has been robbing;

A D? — we’ll be Deed if it isn’t an O!

Alas! how the soul sentimental it vexes,

That thus on our labours, stern Chronos should frown;

Should change our soft liquids to izzards and X es,

And turn true-love’s alphabet all upside down!

Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 11:56