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poet

Eliza Lee Follen

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by this poet

poem
Yes, nonsense is a treasure!
   I love it from my heart;
The only earthly pleasure
   That never will depart.

But, as for stupid reason,
    That stalking, ten-foot rule,
She’s always out of season,
    A tedious, testy fool.

She’s like a walking steeple,
    With a clock for face and eyes,
Still bawling to
poem
Come! supper is ready;
   Come! boys and girls, now,
For here is fresh milk
   From the good moolly cow.

Have done with your fife,
   And your row de dow dow,
And taste this sweet milk
   From the good moolly cow.

Whoever is fretting
   Must clear up his brow,
Or he'll have no milk
   From the good moolly cow