Lift latch, step in, be welcome, Sir, Albeit to see you I'm unglad And your face is fraught with a deathly shyness Bleaching what pink it may have had, Come in, come in, Your Royal Highness. Beautiful weather? — Sir, that's true, Though the farmers are casting rueful looks At tilth's and pasture's dearth of spryness. — Yes, Sir, I've written several books. — A little more chicken, Your Royal Highness? Lift latch, step out, your car is there, To bear you hence from this antient vale. We are both of us aged by our strange brief nighness, But each of us lives to tell the tale. Farewell, farewell, Your Royal Highness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS MISTRESS OBJECTING TO HIM NEITHER TOYING OR TALKING by ROBERT HERRICK THE PASSIONATE MAN'S PILGRIMAGE by WALTER RALEIGH ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 98 by PHILIP SIDNEY FELISE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE NUANCES OF MENDACITY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS AT A READING by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |