THE thatched roofs green with moss and grass stand round, And earthy walls seem growing from the ground, Bold pipe the missel-bird and blue-cap gay From white-bloomed plum, nor fear the yokels' play; Who on the wet green whirl the ball about With monstrous shambling kicks; and in and out Among them plays the mongrel black and young As pleased as any there, and lolls his tongue. But near the postman watching "how she flies" The older dog looks on with pitying eyes, And thinks it only Tom-fool play, and droops His weary head away when laughter whoops To see tripped longshanks floundering on his back With trousers daubed in mire and face all black. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLAYING SOMEONE ELSE'S PIANO by KAREN SWENSON THE RUSH OF THE OREGON by ARTHUR GUITERMAN LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI by JOHN KEATS BETROTHED ANEW by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN TO A CAT by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE SHE BEGINING TO STUDY PHISICK ... FALLS INTO A DEGRESSION ON ANATOMY by JANE BARKER |