They haven't got no noses, <br />The fallen sons of Eve; <br />Even the smell of roses <br />Is not what they supposes; <br />But more than mind discloses <br />And more than men believe. <br /> <br />They haven't got no noses, <br />They cannot even tell <br />When door and darkness closes <br />The park a Jew encloses, <br />Where even the law of Moses <br />Will let you steal a smell. <br /> <br />The brilliant smell of water, <br />The brave smell of a stone, <br />The smell of dew and thunder, <br />The old bones buried under, <br />Are things in which they blunder <br />And err, if left alone. <br /> <br />The wind from winter forests, <br />The scent of scentless flowers, <br />The breath of brides' adorning, <br />The smell of snare and warning, <br />The smell of Sunday morning, <br />God gave to us for ours <br /> <br />* * * * * <br /> <br />And Quoodle here discloses <br />All things that Quoodle can, <br />They haven't got no noses, <br />They haven't got no noses, <br />And goodness only knowses <br />The Noselessness of Man.<br /><br />Gilbert Keith Chesterton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-song-of-quoodle-2/
