(AFTER HEINE.)
Thou little village curate,
Come quick, and do not wait;
We'll sit and talk together,
So sweetly tete-a-tete.
Oh do not fear the railway
Because it seems so big--
Dost thou not daily trust thee
Unto thy little gig.
This house is full of painters,
And half shut up and black;
But rooms the very snuggest
Lie hidden at the back.
Come! come! come!
To The Rev. A. A. In The Country From His Friend In London
Horace Smith
(1)
Poem topics: fear, house, together, trust, hidden, wait, talk, black, daily, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about To The Rev. A. A. In The Country From His Friend In London poem by Horace Smith
Best Poems of Horace Smith