WIT AND HUMOUR.
MIXED METAPHORS. The good) wine needs no bush, yet I sowMy wild) oats under the rose ; And 1 I pluck sour grapes from a thorn in the field, Where the crumpled rose-leaf grows. I show the whit© feather that flocks together, I pick the* crow aa it flies ; There's a flash in the pan of my Parthian daa-t, And the green-eyed monster dies. I eat the leek with a grain of salt, Thougih my salad days are o'er ; I give' the last straw to the golden calf To keep* the wolf from the door. I mounted my hobby to go to the dogs, And! I won, my spurs as I passed, For I scqtched the earliest worm as it turned Down the long lan© at last. I have crossed the Rubicon, burned my boats, As I fled from chimeras dire ; And the oil on the waters smelt of the lamp When I set the Thames on fire. My geeso are all swans, and their golden eggs In a mare's nest mostly are laid ; And I fear I have let the- cat out of the bag, Though I meant to have belled her instead. Frank Ritchie, in Longman's Magazine.
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Bibliographic details
Evening Post, Volume LX, Issue 120, 17 November 1900, Page 3 (Supplement)
Word Count
201WIT AND HUMOUR. Evening Post, Volume LX, Issue 120, 17 November 1900, Page 3 (Supplement)
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