Poem by Horace Smith

To the Rev. A. A. in the Country from His Friend in London

Thou little village curate,
  Come quick, and do not wait;
We'll sit and talk together,
  So sweetly tete-a-tete.

Oh do not fear the railway
  Because it seems so big--
Dost thou not daily trust thee
  Unto thy little gig.

This house is full of painters,
  And half shut up and black;
But rooms the very snuggest
  Lie hidden at the back.
      Come! come! come!

1. Written in the Porch of Binstead Church, Isle of Wight
2. At the Tavern
3. Abbotsford
4. Address to the Orange-tree at Versailles
5. Why Are They Shut?

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