a blustery day, while I pondered, weak and hungery,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my pooh house door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my pooh house door-
this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
After that birithday party we'd all remember
When the Tail came off Eeyore and fell to the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
some Honey with which to surcease of sorrow-
sorrow for the lost Tail I had swallowed -
and for the cake that had gone uneaten...
and my tummy still now growlin
so long after, all I could think was just "Poor Eeyore"
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of my Tummy
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic hungers never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis something I could be eating entreating entrance at my pooh house
Some tasty snack entreating entrance at my pooh house door;-
it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or tail of Eeyore?, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my Pooh house door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Eeyore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Eeyore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my door:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
the wind and nothing more."
Open here I flung the door, when, with many a flirt and
flutter, out in my yard amongst the clutter
There sat a stately Smackerel of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least hungery it made me; not a minute stopped or stayed for
it, or her, or he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched outside my Pooh house door-
Perched upon a Sign that was Mr Sanders', just outside my Pooh house door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this Smakerel beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though theres no honey in my Thoughtful Spot," I said, " 'morrow I
shall borrow some from the Heffalumps and Woozles pot,
as not to eat a Ghastly grim Smackerel wandering from Galleons Lap,
Tell me what, I said, are you Henry Pootel on the 100 akers Map?
the Smackerel, "Not Eeyore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly smakerel to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no silly bear
Ever yet was blest a smackerel outside his Pooh house-
food or beast upon the Mr. Sanders sigh outside his Pooh house door,
such name as "Not Eeyore."
But the smackerel, sitting lonely on the enigmatic sign, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a fleagal then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have come
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have gone before."
the tasty bit said, "NOT EEYORE."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his recipes one burden bore-
Till the leftovers of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
But the thing still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of the door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous food product of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous thing of yore
in croaking "NO EEyore."
So know I wonder when the moon glows bright,
The woods are
filled with such a light,
My friends can see that I am near
We are here! --- I am here! --- We are here!
They do not anwser anymore... And when I look for And hoar-frost twinkles on the
trees, I'll always remember,
That Smackerel that sat out side my door and tryed to tell me.
that his name was "NOT EEYORE".
Too bad I ate it, now what is, was, only my tum knows,
and so sadly does my tummy snore, What did I swallow?
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