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Poems - by Orbler

To a Fish - Leigh Hunt

July 10th 2006 22:58
TO A FISH
by Leigh Hunt

You strange, astonished-looking, angle-faced,
Dreary-mouthed, gaping wretches of the sea,
Gulping salt-water everlastingly,
Cold-blooded, though with red your blood be graced,
And mute, though dwellers in the roaring waste;
And you, all shapes beside, that fishy be,--
Some round, some flat, some long, all devilry,
Legless, unloving, infamously chaste:--

O scaly, slippery, wet, swift, staring wights,
What is't ye do? What life lead? eh, dull goggles?
How do ye vary your vile days and nights?
How pass your Sundays? Are ye still but joggles
In ceaseless wash? Still nought but gapes, and bites,
And drinks, and stares, diversified with boggles?


"All devilry"? I think Hunt is a bit hard on the poor old fish. This kind of attack was not out of character for Hunt - he once served two years in prison for an attack on the Prince Regent, in a newspaper owned by his brother, John Hunt.
from Wikipedia
James Henry Leigh Hunt (1784 - 1859)

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