Dart and Webber

Wild Webber, wild Webber, why rush on so fast?
Your speed is so reckless, it never can last.
Why can't you glide gently around the rough stones,
They'll not move a hair's breadth for all your loud moans.

Besides, at the angle which mortals call " right "
Head-foremost you charge me; I shrink with affright.
The primroses, open-eyed there on the brink,
Are watching us quite at a loss what to think.

Webber .

Indeed, Mrs Dart, I must own it is true;
But then, pray consider, I'm younger than you;
And really till here in this dingle we met,
A lesson in manners I never did get.

Henceforth arm in arm we'll move on, if you please,
And just at your pace; pray be quite at your ease;
But ere we arrive at Holne Chase, I foresee,
The echoes will hear you far louder than me.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.