To The Rev. A. A. In The Country From His Friend In London.
By Horace Smith
(AFTER HEINE.)
Thou little village curate,
Come quick, and do not wait;
We'll sit and talk together,
So sweetly tete-a-tete.
Oh do not fear the railway
Because it seems so big--
Dost thou not daily trust thee
Unto thy little gig.
This house is full of painters,
And half shut up and black;
But rooms the very snuggest
Lie hidden at the back.
Come! come! come!