Old Tillie Turveycombe Sat to sew, Just where a patch of fern did grow; There, as she yawned, And yawn wide did she, Floated some seed Down her gull-e-t; And look you once, And look you twice, Poor old Tillie Was gone in a trice. But oh, when the wind Do a-moaning come, 'Tis poor old Tillie Sick for home; And oh, when a voice In the mist do sigh, Old Tillie Turveycombe's Floating by. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PLOUGHER [OR PLOWER] by PADRAIC COLUM NO BABY IN THE HOUSE by CLARA G. DOLLIVER THE THREE HERMITS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ADVENTURE ON THE WINGS OF MORNING by RACHEL ALBRIGHT SPANISH WINGS: SENOR by H. BABCOCK SONNETS OF MANHOOD: SONNET 24. BALCOMBE FOREST by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) TO MRS W. ON HER EXCELLENT VERSES WRITTEN IN A FIT OF SICKNESS by APHRA BEHN |