Sport and Marriage

How dream from facts of nature swerves!

As I was shooting my preserves
I would not have believed, I swear,
How very tame the pheasants were.
My spaniel to a setter blushed;
The bird would simply not be flushed.
I beat one with a stick quite hard;
He only fluttered half a yard,
Scolding me: “Idiot and brute,
Why in the devil don’t you shoot?”
I turned upon my heel; the bird
Followed me home—it sounds absurd!
[My fault! for getting the grand slam on
Chateau Yquem and cold boiled salmon!]
At last in anger, not for fun,
I lifted my reluctant gun,
Gave him both barrels, plain and choke,
And blew him into bits. I woke.
    .     .     .     .     .     .    
—How dreams reflect the facts of life!
I was in bed with my own wife.


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