Laurence Raby's Chamber. LAURENCE enters, a little the worse for liquor. Laurence: He never gave me a chance to speak, And he call'd her -- worse than a dog -- The girl stood up with a crimson cheek, And I fell'd him there like a log. I can feel the blow on my knuckles yet -- He feels it more on his brow. In a thousand years we shall all forget The things that trouble us now. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CENTAURS by JAMES STEPHENS SUMMER BY THE LAKESIDE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A SUMMER NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE ZOPHIEL; OR THE BRIDE OF SEVEN: CANTO 3. PALACE OF THE GNOMES by MARIA GOWEN BROOKS |