HE'd nothing but his violin, I'd nothing but my song, But we were wed when skies were blue And summer days were long; And when we rested by the hedge, The robins came and told How they had dared to woo and win, When early Spring was cold. We sometimes supped on dew-berries, Or slept among the hay, But oft the farmers' wives at eve Came out to hear us play; The rare old songs, the dear old tunes, -- We could not starve for long While my man had his violin, And I my sweet love-song. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WINTER'S NIGHT by ROBERT FROST THINGS ARE WHAT THEY SEEM by MARIANNE MOORE THE VISIONARY by EMILY JANE BRONTE FOOLIN' WID DE SEASONS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR WHEN THE KYE CAME HOME by JAMES HOGG IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 51 by ALFRED TENNYSON |