THE thatched roofs green with moss and grass stand round, And earthy walls seem growing from the ground, Bold pipe the missel-bird and blue-cap gay From white-bloomed plum, nor fear the yokels' play; Who on the wet green whirl the ball about With monstrous shambling kicks; and in and out Among them plays the mongrel black and young As pleased as any there, and lolls his tongue. But near the postman watching "how she flies" The older dog looks on with pitying eyes, And thinks it only Tom-fool play, and droops His weary head away when laughter whoops To see tripped longshanks floundering on his back With trousers daubed in mire and face all black. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SMALL SELF AND THE LIBERAL SELF by JAMES GALVIN THE DINNER-PARTY by AMY LOWELL DAWN BEHIND NIGHT by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE WISE WOMAN by SARA TEASDALE THE MAGNETIC MOUNTAIN: 32 by CECIL DAY LEWIS CACOETHES SCRIBENDI by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES |