Bread and Butter

Sit down to a feast

At the library.

For the steak and baked potatoes

We eat Milton and Chaucer.

For the sweet peas and carrots,

The corn and the chickpeas,

We eat The Prince and the Pauper;

And we take spoonfuls of Pride’s Prejudice—

We sip on For Whom the Bell Tolls

As our milk.

But, the bread and butter of any litterateur

Is four to five stanzas,

Or at most a hundred’s verse.

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