I am trying to find an old poem, but don't know the title or the poet. It is someone appologising for all the bad things he has done, and every verse ends with....,
I'm sorry, I thought it was my wife.
Can anyone help ? ? ?

Nothing so far 22-4...hope you find it. maybe Bryan can help..he has some up his sleeve.
i like the sound of the end of each verse..lol

Yes, it was rather humerous, he did all sorts of things, and like I said, every verse ended with
I'm sorry, I thought it was my wife
And it wasn't smutty either, just very imaginative

Sounds a bit like "Nobody" . Goes like:
Nobody came knocking at my wee small door.
Nobdy came knocking, I'm sure, I'm sure, I'm sure.
I listened, I opened, I looked to left and right,
But nought there was astirring in the still dark night.
( there's lots more. It's all about the mischief that's being done, and it's always done by Nobody... not your wife.

That sounds interesting too, but no , the one I'm after definitely finished each verse with
I'm sorry, I thought it was my wife
But thanks anyway. I will look that one up though

You could try to track the poem down with the search engine answers.com When I typed in, "I'm sorry I thought it was my wife" it returned the staggering total of 370,000 entries with this phrase.

Looks like I could be VERY busy for a while. I'll try it though. thanks for that idea

Post deleted at 26 Jul 2008 2:27pm by gee-bee

Gee-bee, Unfortunately I can't. The only line I can recall is the last one of every verse, " I'm sorry, I thought it was my wife" You know how sometimes a phrase or quotation comes to mind all "by itself". This happened over Christmas without any obvious prompt, and it's been at the back of my mind ever since. So I'll just have to keep trying. ( And I can be VERY trying, ask my wife. lol )

somebody was asking about a poem which the last verse ended:- For the rose is beauty the gardener time - I have been racking my brains and came up with the second to last verse----------- The full rose waxed in the warm June air, And she spread and spread 'til her heart lay bare And she laughed once more when she heard his tread "he is older now - he will soon be dead" Can't think of the poet or the other verses but maybe someone else can help with this prompting Bea(Manurewa)

Who wrote this poem, please? I'm trying to trace it.
'Out, out in a waste of waters Where the long green curlers foam
God fashioned the sister islands And 'stablished for man a home A home of enchanting beauty Of mountain lake and wood Remote from the ranging sailer And ambition's grasping brood.....'