Parody time! Today I’ve turned around George Eliot’s poem ‘Blue Wings’. It’s a wonderful poem, and if you haven’t read it, you can check it out here.
Shrill yelling through the billowy blue veil
Came to me a piercing sound,
Scolding of my stepmother profound
In the clear sunshine ‘mid my book’s leaves:
Said I was sleeping in the morn,
Called it languor, called it a ploy,
Drew me on ‘Come hither, boy.’
To where the mop rested against the wall.
I thought the woman’s rantings grew
Thought the little mind of mine,
Bent to make the floor shine,
And saw the mop clean the residue.