Why do you rush through the fields in trains,
Guessing so much and so much.
Why do you flash through the flowery meads,
Fat-head poet that nobody reads;
And why do you know such a frightful lot
About people in gloves and such?
More verses by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
- The Unpardonable Sin
- The Shakespeare Memorial
- The Song Of Right And Wrong
- The Old Song
- The Aristocrat