Polly
W
William Brighty Rands
0
Altın Yaprak
Brown eyes,
Straight nose;
Dirt pies,
Rumpled clothes;
Torn books,
Spoilt toys;
Arch looks,
Unlike a boy's;
Little rages,
Obvious arts;
(Three her age is,)
Cakes, tarts;
Falling down
Off chairs;
Breaking crown
Down stairs;
Catching flies
On the pane;
Deep sighs,--
Cause not plain.
Bribing you
With kisses
For a few
Farthing blisses;
Wide awake,
As you hear,
"Mercy's sake,
Quiet, dear!"
New shoes,
New frock;
Vague views
Of what's o'clock
When it's time
To go to bed,
And scorn sublime
Of what is said;
Folded hands,
Saying prayers,
Understands
Not, nor cares;
Thinks it odd,
Smiles away;
Yet may God
Hear her pray!
Bedgown white,
Kiss Dolly;
Good-night!--
That's Polly,
Fast asleep,
As you see;
Heaven keep
My girl for me!
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş