The Rime of the Liberal Weblogger (An Excerpt)

It is a liberal Weblogger,
And he stoppeth one of three.
`By thy pajamas and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me ?

The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin ;
The guests are met, the feast is set :
May’st hear the merry din.’

He holds him with his skinny hand,
`The issue’s Bush,’ quoth he.
`Hold off ! unhand me, pajamma’d loon !’
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye–
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years’ child :
The Weblogger hath his will.

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone :
He cannot choose but hear ;
And thus spake on that liberal man,
The bright-eyed Weblogger.

`The war was cheered, old Baghdad cleared,
Merrily did we drop
The statue that was in the square,
Below Saddam’s old palace top.

The Sun went down upon the left,
Out of favor went we !
And he shone bright, and on the right
All seemed a calming sea.

Higher and higher every day,
Went George, though still a buffoon–‘
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.

The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she ;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear ;
And thus spake on that liberal man,
The bright-eyed Weblogger.

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale ;
And then it left me free.

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns :
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

I blog, each night, every site at hand ;
I have strange power of speech ;
That moment an issue comes to me,
I know the man that must hear me :
To him my tale I teach.

What loud uproar bursts from that door !
The wedding-guests are there :
But in the garden-bower the bride
And bride-maids singing are :
And hark the little vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to prayer !

O Wedding-Guest ! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide blog sea :
So lonely ’twas, that God himself
Scarce seeméd there to be.

O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
‘Tis sweeter far to me,
To blog together to the net
With a goodly company !–

To blog together to the net,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay !

Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest !
He blogeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

He blogeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small ;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.

The Weblogger, whose eye is bright,
Whose fingers promised more,
Is gone : and now the Wedding-Guest
Turned from the bridegroom’s door.

He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn :
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.

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