Lift latch, step in, be welcome, Sir, Albeit to see you I'm unglad And your face is fraught with a deathly shyness Bleaching what pink it may have had, Come in, come in, Your Royal Highness. Beautiful weather? — Sir, that's true, Though the farmers are casting rueful looks At tilth's and pasture's dearth of spryness. — Yes, Sir, I've written several books. — A little more chicken, Your Royal Highness? Lift latch, step out, your car is there, To bear you hence from this antient vale. We are both of us aged by our strange brief nighness, But each of us lives to tell the tale. Farewell, farewell, Your Royal Highness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MARTYR; INDICATIVE OF PASSION OF PEOPLES APRIL 15, 1865 by HERMAN MELVILLE TO ANACREON by ANTIPATER OF SIDON THE YOUTH OF MAN by MATTHEW ARNOLD ANIMALS, AND THEIR COUNTRIES by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD A RHAPSODY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |