Page:How To Tell the Birds From the Flowers, and Other Woodcuts (1917) (IA cu31924027175250).pdf/48

I always sing the hymn of hate,
When I perceive the Ray (or skate)
His ugly mouth I can't abide,
His eyes are on the other side,
His features are all out of place
He hasn't even any face.
I do not mind the Raven, though

Maligned by Edgar Allan Poe:

38.