Explore "A Closeup of Domba Splew" by Ring Lardner on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Not since the tardy, posthumous death of Agera Cholera has the American literati been so baffled toward a rising genius of letters than has been demonstrated in regards to the Italian poet, Domba Splew, who, just a year ago, sprang into worldwide indifference by the publication, in The Bookman, of his verse, "La battia fella inna base tuba" (The weasel fell into the bathtub).
It is a matter of history that in the month in which this poem appeared, the circulation of the magazine in which it was printed increased two copies. And the fame of the author on this side of the old pond, as I call it, spread as far west as North Attleboro, Mass. You could not wake up in the morning or any other time without either wife or kiddies yelping, "Sweet papa, did you see this poem of Domba Splew's, ‘La battia fella inna base tuba' (The weasel fell into the bathtub)?"