If thou didst feed on western plains of yore <br />Or waddle wide with flat and flabby feet <br />Over some Cambrian mountain's plashy moor, <br />Or find in farmer's yard a safe retreat <br />From gipsy thieves and foxes sly and fleet; <br />If thy grey quills by lawyer guided, trace <br />Deeds big with ruin to some wretched race, <br />Or love-sick poet's sonnet, sad and sweet, <br />Wailing the rigour of some lady fair; <br />Or if, the drudge of housemaid's daily toil, <br />Cobwebs and dust thy pinion white besoil, <br />Departed goose! I neither know nor care. <br />But this I know, that thou wert very fine, <br />Seasoned with sage and onions and port wine.<br /><br />Robert Southey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-goose/
