(1873 - 1958 / Kent / England)

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Bones

Said Mr. Smith, “I really cannot
Tell you, Dr. Jones—
The most peculiar pain I’m in—
I think it’s in my bones.”

Said Dr. Jones, “Oh, Mr. Smith,
That’s nothing. Without doubt
We have a simple cure for that;
It is to take them out.”

He laid forthwith poor Mr. Smith
Close-clamped upon the table,
And, cold as stone, took out his bones
As fast as he was able.

Smith said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,”
And wished him a good-day;
And with his parcel ‘neath his arm
He slowly moved away.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003


Read poems about / on: pain, thanks

Comments about this poem (Bones by Walter de la Mare )

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  • William Jones (2/21/2005 11:26:00 AM)

    Walter de la Mare (AKA Walter Ramal) with this single piece of pseudohomorous poetry has convinced me that he has yet to be surpassed as the master of shocking rhyme.

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