Put all to rights,

 Then leave him in possession.

 Ah, but the nights,

 The nights! Sir, if I dared

 But once set eye

 To keyhole, nor be scared,

 From playing Paul Pry,

 I doubt not I should learn

 A wondrous thing

 Or two; and in return

 Go blind till spring.

 The light under his door

 Is glory enough,

57

 It outshines any star

 That I know of.

 Wirrah, my lad, my lad,

 ’T is fearsome strange,

 The hints we all have had

 Passing the range

 Prev. P 54/99 next