dinner - Popular Poems and stories from category

I know I
The Negro
Being wined and dined,
Answering the usual

A table cloth that's slightly soiled Where greasy little hands have toiled;
The napkins kept in silver rings,
And only ordinary things From which to eat, a simple fare,
And just the wife and kiddies there,

Soup should be heralded with a mellow horn,
Blowing clear notes of gold against the stars;
Strange entrees with a jangle of glass bars Fantastically alive with subtle scorn;
Fish, by a plopping, gurgling rush of waters,