AN ENIGMA

"Seldom we find" say Solomon Don Dunce,

"Half an idea as the profoundest Sonnet

Through all the flimsy things we see at once

As easily as through Naples bonnet

Trash of all trash! how can a lady don it

Yet heavier far than your petrarchan stuf

Owl downy nonsense that the faintest puff

Twirls into trunk-paper due while you con it"

And, veritably, Sol is right enough

The general tuckormanities are arrant

Bubbles - emphemeral and so transparent

But this is nopw you may depend on it-

Stable, opaque, imortal - all lay dint

Of the dear names that he concealed within 't.

by E. A. Poe