The Poetry Corner

Spoken Of Several Philosophers

By George MacDonald

I pray you, all ye men who put your trust In moulds and systems and well-tackled gear, Holding that Nature lives from year to year In one continual round because she must-- Set me not down, I pray you, in the dust Of all these centuries, like a pot of beer-- A pewter-pot disconsolately clear, Which holds a potful, as is right and just! I will grow clamorous--by the rood, I will, If thus ye use me like a pewter pot! Good friend, thou art a toper and a sot-- will not be the lead to hold thy swill, Nor any lead: I will arise and spill Thy silly beverage--spill it piping hot!