While we sit bousing at the nappy,
An' getting fou' and unco happy,
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practice to deceive!
And more, much more, than in my verse can sit,
Your own glass shows you when you look in it.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
But with no wish to be derided
I've reluctantly decided
to play mute
Deep silence in the shadowy land,
Deep silence where the shadows cease.
Because we are putting you to sleep at three of the clock, Nigel.
Robert Burns - Tam O'Shanter
William Wordsworth - Daffodils
Sir Walter Scott - Marmion (Canto VI, Stanza XVII)
William Shakespeare - Sonnet 103
Edgar Allan Poe - The Raven
William Butler Yeats - The Wild Swans At Coole
Twizzle - If I Could Keep My Mouth Shut
Oscar Wilde - La Fuite De La Lune
John Lennon - Good Dog Nigel