Current mood:

silly

Because I could not wire a Plug,
It wired itself to me,
The carriage held but just ourselves,
And Electricity.

We passed the school, where children strove
To gain some erudition,
Ah! what a shame I did not learn
To be an electrician.

For who would think a wire called "live"
The life of humans halts?
My wiring style contains, I fear,
Two hundred forty faults.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet
We drive for all we're worth;
The eternal heavens seem so live;
So neutral seemed the earth.

(I think Death demonstrates that the common metre can make even the best metaphor sound trite.)