04-29-2013, 01:24 PM
In just how many pink horizons
have you bathed the moon, Milo?
Surely it’s a few.
I’ll measure all your meters,
in hope to know your age:
You’re twenty-five, like Keats?
Or twenty-nine, like Shelly?
Or maybe that won’t work,
since I do not now write as well
as him, though I will soon be thirty (god willing).
So just how old are you?
And will you have three hundred plus more days
in which to wash the moon?
How old will you be then?
Oh well, keep mum; and have a good one, too!
have you bathed the moon, Milo?
Surely it’s a few.
I’ll measure all your meters,
in hope to know your age:
You’re twenty-five, like Keats?
Or twenty-nine, like Shelly?
Or maybe that won’t work,
since I do not now write as well
as him, though I will soon be thirty (god willing).
So just how old are you?
And will you have three hundred plus more days
in which to wash the moon?
How old will you be then?
Oh well, keep mum; and have a good one, too!