FRIENDS had he many, neighbours next to none. Rowfant and Crabbet lay few fields apart. Each Sunday saw him here, his church drill done, Duly stroll in to talk of books and art, Entrapped, may-be, to share my modest tart, Roast fowl and claret, and an evening won In stealth from Sabbath bonds strange to his heart. Childlike he prized these truant bursts of fun. —Long years ago! It needs his wit to jog Old time to life. Yet I remember well Companioning him home to the hill's top Keen on his books, and how he paused to tell Eager the first news of this Catalogue. Reading it, see, the tears come and I stop. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APPELLATE JURISDICTION by MARIANNE MOORE THE BEAST OF BURDEN by MARIANNE MOORE MERLIN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE BALLAD OF PROSE AND RHYME by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE LOVE OF CHRIST WHICH PASSETH KNOWLEDGE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SONNET: 20. A FAREWELL by PHILIP SIDNEY THE INGOLDSBY PENANCE!; A LEGEND OF PALESTINE AND -- WEST KENT by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |