THE IDIOT BOY.

Tis eight oclock,--a clear March night,

The moon is up--the sky is blue,

The owlet in the moonlight air,

He shouts from nobody knows where;

He lengthens out his lonely shout,

Halloo! halloo! a long halloo!

--Why bustle thus about your door,

What means this bustle, Betty Foy?

Why are you in this mighty fret?

And why on horseback have you set

Him whom you love, your idiot boy?

Beneath the moon that shines so bright,

Till she is tired, let Betty Foy

With girt and stirrup ?ddle-faddle;

But wherefore set upon a saddle

Loading...

未加载完，尝试【刷新网页】or【关闭小说模式】or【关闭广告屏蔽】。

使用【Firefox浏览器】or【Chrome谷歌浏览器】打开并收藏！

移动流量偶尔打不开，可以切换电信、联通网络。

收藏网址：www.ziyungong.cc

(＞人＜；)