The Microbe
Hilaire Belloc
The Microbe is so very small You cannot make him out at all, But many sanguine people hope To see him through a microscope. His jointed tongue that lies beneath A hundred curious rows of teeth; His seven tufted tails with lots Of lovely pink and purple spots, On each of which a pattern stands, Composed of forty separate bands; His eyebrows of a tender green; All these have never yet been seen— But Scientists, who ought to know, Assure us that they must be so…. Oh! let us never, never doubt What nobody is sure about!
Next 10 Poems
- Hilaire Belloc : The Night
- Hilaire Belloc : The Pacifist
- Hilaire Belloc : The Pelagian Drinking Song
- Hilaire Belloc : The Scorpion
- Hilaire Belloc : The South Country
- Hilaire Belloc : The Statue
- Hilaire Belloc : The Telephone
- Hilaire Belloc : The Tiger
- Hilaire Belloc : The Vulture
- Hilaire Belloc : The Whale
Previous 10 Poems
- Hilaire Belloc : The Marmozet
- Hilaire Belloc : The Lion
- Hilaire Belloc : The Hippopotamus
- Hilaire Belloc : The Frog
- Hilaire Belloc : The Evenlode
- Hilaire Belloc : The Elephant
- Hilaire Belloc : The Early Morning
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- Hilaire Belloc : The Death And Last Confession Of Wandering Peter
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