Now that I am dressed I'll go Down to where the roses blow, I'll pluck a fair and fragrant one And make my mother pin it on: Now she's laughing, so am I -- Oh the blueness of the sky! Down the street, turn to the right, Round the corner out of sight; Pass the church and out of town -- Dust does show on boots of brown, I'd better brush them while I can -- Step out, Peadar, be a man! Here's a field and there's a stile, Shall I jump it? wait a while, Scale it gently, stretch a foot Across the mud in that big rut And I'm still clean -- faith, I'm not! Get some grass and rub the spot. Dodge those nettles! Here the stream, Bubbling onward with a gleam Steely white, and black, and grey, Bends the rushes on its way -- What's that moving? It's a rat Washing his whiskers; isn't he fat? Here the cow with the crumpledy horn Whisks her tail and looks forlorn She wants a milkmaid bad I guess, How her udders swell and press Against her legs -- And here's some sheep; And there's the shepherd, fast asleep. This is a sad and lonely field, Thistles are all that it can yield; I'll cross it quick, nor look behind, There's nothing in it but the wind: And if those bandy-legged trees Could talk they'd only curse or sneeze. A sour, unhappy, sloppy place -- That boot's loose! I'll tie the lace So, and jump this little ditch, ...Her father's really very rich: He'll be angry -- There's a crow, Solemn blackhead! Off you go! There a big, grey, ancient ass Is snoozing quiet in the grass; He hears me coming, starts to rise, Wags his big ears at the flies: ...What'll I say when -- There's a frog, Go it, long-legs -- jig, jig-jog. He'll be angry, say -- "Pooh, pooh, Boy, you know not what you do!" Shakespeare stuff and good advice, Fat old duffer -- Those field mice Have a good time playing round Through the corn and underground. But her mother is friends with mine, She always asks us out to dine, And dear Nora, curly head, Loves me; so at least she said. ...Damn that ass's hee-hee-haw -- Was that a rabbit's tail I saw? This is the house, Lord, I'm afraid! A man does suffer for a maid. ...How will I start? The graining's new On the door -- Oh pluck up, do. Don't stand shivering there like that ...The knocker's funny -- Rat-tat-tat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DONKEY by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON THE LATTER DAY by THOMAS HASTINGS DORIS; A PASTORAL by ARTHUR JOSEPH MUNBY VORTICIST POEM ON LOVE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS EPITAPH ON FRANCIS CHARTRES by JOHN ARBUTHNOT SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 36. STRONG, LIKE THE SEA by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |