THE doors are shut, the windows fast, Outside the gust is driving past, Outside the shivering ivy clings, While on the hob the kettle sings. Margery, Margery, make the tea, Singeth the kettle merrily. The streams are hushed up where they flowed, The ponds are frozen along the road, The cattle are housed in shed and byre, While singeth the kettle on the fire. Margery, Margery, make the tea, Singeth the kettle merrily. The fisherman on the bay in his boat Shivers and buttons up his coat; The traveller stops at the tavern door, And the kettle answers the chimney's roar. Margery, Margery, make the tea, Singeth the kettle merrily. The firelight dances upon the wall, Footsteps are heard in the outer hall, And a kiss and a welcome that fill the room, And the kettle sings in the glimmer and gloom. Margery, Margery, make the tea, Singeth the kettle merrily. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HYMN [TO THE NAME AND] IN HONOR OF SAINT TERESA by RICHARD CRASHAW EVENING HYMN by REGINALD HEBER PREJUDICE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CORINNA TO TANAGRA, FROM ATHENS by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN; PARODY OF TENNYSON'S 'LOCKSLEY HALL' by THEODORE MARTIN ARMS AND THE BOY by WILFRED OWEN THE CAT OF CATS by WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS |