Chilly Dovebber with his boadig blast
Dow cubs add stribs the bedow add the lawd,
Eved October's suddy days are bast—
And Subber's gawd!
I kdow dot what it is to which I cligg,
That stirs to sogg and sorrow, yet I trust
That still I sigg, but as the liddets sigg—
Because I bust.
Add now, farewell to roses add to birds,
To laded fields and tigkligg streablets eke;
Farewell to all articulated words
I fain would speak.
Farewell, by cherished strolliggs od the sward,
Greed glades and forest shades, farewell to you;
With sorrowing heart I, wretched add forlord,
Bid you—achew!!!
((from *The Penguin Book of Nonsense Verse*, Quentin Blake, ed., 1995)
MELANCHOLY DAYS
Chilly November with his moaning blast
Now comes and strips the meadow and the lawn;
Even October's sunny days are past—
And summer's gone!
I know not what it is to which I cling,
That stirs to song and sorrow, yet I trust
That still I sing, but as the linnets sing—
Because I must.
And now, farewell to roses and to birds,
To laden fields and tinkling streamlets eke;
Farewell to all articulated words
I fain would speak.
Farewell, my cherished strollings on the sward,
Green glades and forest shades, farewell to you;
With sorrowing heart I, wretched and forlorn,
Bid you—adieu!
(tr. by Anthony Madrid)
