THE KNOBBY-GREEN
Othou who ’neath the umbrageous treesThat line the Avenue LouiseDid’st spread in Belgian sun and breezeThy buds about,I come to weep thy destiniesMy Brussels Sprout:Who, on this drear December day,Rearest above mine Essex clayThy wand of buds as green as theyWho spend their YuleHearing remoter church-bells playIn St. Gudule.Hail, noble alien, I seeThou bear’st in exile and for meA neat-curl’d row of progeny,(Not all unlikeSome purse-proud donor’s family,By John van Eyck)For me unmindful of thy place(Comrade of carpets and of lace)Who class thee with the vulgar raceOf Beet and Bean,And call thee—to thy very face—The Knobby-green.
Othou who ’neath the umbrageous treesThat line the Avenue LouiseDid’st spread in Belgian sun and breezeThy buds about,I come to weep thy destiniesMy Brussels Sprout:Who, on this drear December day,Rearest above mine Essex clayThy wand of buds as green as theyWho spend their YuleHearing remoter church-bells playIn St. Gudule.Hail, noble alien, I seeThou bear’st in exile and for meA neat-curl’d row of progeny,(Not all unlikeSome purse-proud donor’s family,By John van Eyck)For me unmindful of thy place(Comrade of carpets and of lace)Who class thee with the vulgar raceOf Beet and Bean,And call thee—to thy very face—The Knobby-green.
Othou who ’neath the umbrageous treesThat line the Avenue LouiseDid’st spread in Belgian sun and breezeThy buds about,I come to weep thy destiniesMy Brussels Sprout:
Who, on this drear December day,Rearest above mine Essex clayThy wand of buds as green as theyWho spend their YuleHearing remoter church-bells playIn St. Gudule.
Hail, noble alien, I seeThou bear’st in exile and for meA neat-curl’d row of progeny,(Not all unlikeSome purse-proud donor’s family,By John van Eyck)
For me unmindful of thy place(Comrade of carpets and of lace)Who class thee with the vulgar raceOf Beet and Bean,And call thee—to thy very face—The Knobby-green.