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