I wandered lonely as a frog
That hops on two arthritic legs
When all at once I saw a line
Of pants, pinned up with plastic pegs
Colourful undies in the breeze
Cast off from some Dryad's striptease
And now, when on my couch I lie
The telly's crap. I'm in a mood
They flash upon that inward eye
Which often gets up to no good
And memory with pleasure fills
(For once, I fitted such small frills)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem