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His Grange, or Private Wealth
To tell how night draws hence, I’ve none,
I have to sing how day draws on.
A maid, my Prew, by good luck sent
That little Fates me gave or lent.
I keep, which creeking day by day,
She goes her long white egg to lay.
I have, which with a jealous ear
Her tongue to tell that danger’s near.
I keep, tame, with my morsels fed,
An orphan left him, lately dead.
I keep that plays about my house,
With eating many a miching mouse.
A Tracy* I do keep whereby
The more my rural privacy;
But toys to give my heart some ease;
None is, slight things do lightly please.
Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.