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

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