by: Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953)
- HE 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 is must be so...
- Oh! let us never, never doubt
- What nobody is sure about!
POEMS BY HILAIRE BELLOC
"The Microbe" is reprinted
from More Beasts for Worse Children. Hilaire Belloc. Duckworth,