Explore "Love Gustatory" by Franklin P. Adams on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Myrtilla, I have seen you eat -- / Have heard you drink, to be precise -- / Your soup, and, notwithstanding, sweet, / The gurgitation wasn't nice, / I overlooked a tiny fault / Like that with just a grain of salt.
And, sweetest maid in all New York, / When all ungracefully you pierce / The toothsome oyster with your fork / I realize you're pretty fierce; / But such a feat, be't understood, / Nor Venus nor Diana could.
I've seen you hang, high in the air, / A stalk of fresh asparagus, / Guiding its succulence to where / It ought to go. I did not cuss. / You had it hot and vinaigrette, / Myrtilla, and I loved you yet.
Myrt, I have stood for a good deal, / As one will in this Cupid game, / But now I know I'll never feel / Toward you, dear Tillie, quite the same / Since I have seen you on the job / Of eating corn -- corn on the cob.