Gamaliel Bradford

(9 October 1863 - 11 April 1932 / Boston, Massachusetts)

The Pack - Poem by Gamaliel Bradford

A bit of metaphysics or a psychologic catch
Will sit upon my breast all day and scratch and scratch and
scratch. Now isn't it a pity that the ragged thorns of culture Should be tearing at my vitals, as Prometheus's the vulture?

I really have no liking for abstruse and subtle question.
I prefer to laugh in sunshine and to cherish my digestion.
But a pack of eager queries, barking, barking, hound me on,
Until I find an hour of life's pure delight is gone.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 4, 2012

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