SHE cannot leave it alone, The new toy; She pats it, smooths it, rights it, to show it's her own, As the other train-passengers muse on its temper and tone, Till she draws from it cries of annoy: -- She feigns to appear as if thinking it nothing so rare Or worthy of pride, to achieve This wonder a child, though with reason the rest of them there May so be inclined to believe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRAFALGAR SQUARE by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES ON THE SLAIN AT CHICKAMAUGA by HERMAN MELVILLE TO A GENTLEMAN & LADY ON THE DEATH ... CHILD NAMED AVIS by PHILLIS WHEATLEY A STREET SKETCH by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY BARCAROLE: DE VIGNY by E. G. B. SONNET TO NICHOLAS BLACKLEECH OF GRAYES INNE by RICHARD BARNFIELD |