Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ADDRESS TO MR. CROSS, OF EXETER 'CHANGE ON THE DEATH OF AN ELEPHANT, by THOMAS HOOD Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Oh, mr. Cross! Last Line: Shoot me! Subject(s): Animals; Elephants | ||||||||
Oh, Mr. Cross! Permit a sorry stranger to draw near, And shed a tear (I've shed my shilling) for thy recent loss! I've been a visitor, Of old, a sort of a Buffon inquisitor Of thy menagerie -- and knew the beast That is deceased! -- I was the Damon of the gentle giant, And oft have been, Like Mr Kean, Tenderly fondled by his trunk compliant; Whenever I approach'd, the kindly brute Flapp'd his prodigious ears, and bent his knees, -- It makes me freeze To think of it! -- No chums could better suit, Exchanging grateful looks for grateful fruit, -- For so our former dearness was begun. I bribed him with an apple, and beguiled The beast of his affection like a child; And well he loved me till his life was done (Except when he was wild): It makes me blush for human friends -- but none I have so truly kept or cheaply won! Here is his pen! -- The casket, -- but the jewel is away! -- The den is rifled of its denizen -- Ah, well a day! This fresh free air breathes nothing of his grossness, And sets me sighing, even for its closeness. This light one-storey Where, like a cloud, I used to feast my eyes on The grandeur of his Titan-like horizon, Tells a dark tale of its departed glory. The very beasts lament the change, like me; The shaggy Bison Leaneth his head dejected on his knee! Th' Hyaena's laugh is hush'd, and Monkey's pout, The Wild Cat frets in a complaining whine, The Panther paces restlessly about, To walk her sorrow out; The Lions in a deeper bass repine, -- The Kangaroo wrings its sorry short fore paws, Shrieks come from the Macaws; The old bald Vulture shakes his naked head, And pineth for the dead, The Boa writhes into a double knot, The Keeper groans Whilst sawing bones, And looks askance at the deserted spot -- Brutal and rational lament his loss, The flower of thy beastly family! Poor Mrs Cross Sheds frequent tears into her daily tea, And weakens her Bohea! O Mr Cross, how little it gives birth To grief, when human greatness goes to earth; How few lament for Czars! -- But oh the universal heart o'erflow'd At his high mass, Lighted by gas, When, like Mark Antony, the keeper show'd The Elephant scars! -- Reporters' eyes Were of an egg-like size, Men that had never wept for murder'd Marrs! Hard-hearted editors, with iron faces Their sluices all unclosed, -- And discomposed Compositors went fretting to their cases! -- That grief has left its traces: The poor old Beef-eater has gone much greyer With sheer regret, And the Gazette Seems the least trouble of the beast's Purveyor! Well! he is dead! And there's a gap in Nature of eleven Feet high by seven -- Five living tons! -- and I remain -- nine stone Of skin and bone! It is enough to make me shake my head And dream of the grave's brink -- 'Tis worse to think How like the Beast's the sorry life I've led! -- A sort of show Of my poor public self and my sagacity, To profit the rapacity Of certain folks in Paternoster Row, A slavish toil to win an upper story -- And a hard glory Of wooden beams about my weary brow! Oh, Mr C.! If ever you behold me twirl my pen To earn a public supper, that is, eat In the bare street, -- Or turn about their literary den -- Shoot me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PETE AT THE ZOO by GWENDOLYN BROOKS DILIGENCE IS TO MAGIC AS PROGRESS IS TO FLIGHT by MARIANNE MOORE IT'S HARD TO BE AN ELEPHANT by JACK PRELUTSKY WE MUST BE POLITE: 2 by CARL SANDBURG DRAWN BY STONES, BY EARTH, BY THINGS THAT HAVE BEEN IN FIRE by MARVIN BELL THE ELEPHANT IS SLOW TO MATE by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE ELETELEPHONY by LAURA ELIZABETH HOWE RICHARDS |
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