Ode to Eggnog

O eggnog,
Creamy eggnog,
Dreamy eggnog,
Thy hint of nutmeg
Flutters across my tongue
Like a fish
Caught in a valley
Full of behunger’d bears.
Thy foam, ‘tis frothy.
Thou art but of a meager cow
And his banty poulet friend
Egg and milk,
Together harmonious still,
As one splendid drink.

Drink of the gods, art thou not?
Or of the nymph, or the muse?
Or of the freckle-bearded wren
Whose shadow casts upon my shoulder?
Alas, I have forgotten
But I shall never forget thee,
Two-week old eggnog,
Even when, as it be,
Thou hath, in thy bath of sun,
Become ripe and crusty,
Pleasantly pungent,
In thy sweet, sweet
Surface skin.

—F. E. L. Lish, Poet Laureate of the Democratic Socialist Republic of New Zealand