WHEN Molly smiles beneath her cow, I feel my heart--I can't tell how; When Molly is on Sunday dressed, On Sundays I can take no rest. What can I do? on worky days I leave my work on her to gaze. What shall I say? At sermons, I Forget the text when Molly 's by. Good master curate, teach me how To mind your preaching and my plough: And if for this you'll raise a spell, A good fat goose shall thank you well. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER NIGHT-BROADWAY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER BEN KARSHOOK'S WISDOM by ROBERT BROWNING DICKENS IN CAMP by FRANCIS BRET HARTE SONG OF THE BANNER AT DAY-BREAK by WALT WHITMAN LEGENDARY LIGHTS by ALTER ABELSON JOLLY NOSE by WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH |