Oliver Wendell Holmes

The Height of the Ridiculous

I WROTE some lines once on a time
         In wondrous merry mood,
         And thought, as usual, men would say
         They were exceeding good.
 
         They were so queer, so very queer,
         I laughed as I would die;
         Albeit, in the general way,
         A sober man am I.
 
         I called my servant, and he came;
         How kind it was of him
         To mind a slender man like me,
         He of the mighty limb.
 
         “These to the printer,” I exclaimed,
         And, in my humorous way,
         I added, (as a trifling jest,)
         “There’ll be the devil to pay.”
 
         He took the paper, and I watched,
         And saw him peep within;
         At the first line he read, his face
         Was all upon the grin.
 
         He read the next; the grin grew broad,
         And shot from ear to ear;
         He read the third; a chuckling noise
         I now began to hear.
 
         The fourth; he broke into a roar;
         The fifth; his waistband split;
         The sixth; he burst five buttons off,
         And tumbled in a fit.
 
         Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye,
         I watched that wretched man,
         And since, I never dare to write
         As funny as I can.
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