Ernestine Northover Poems

Who is the young man, who stands at the dawn of the day,
And views the world with a frivolous outlook, and with ease,
He dreams, new dreams, his life years from decay,
As if the earth were his, and he had only himself to please.
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Life is full of coloured posters,
You'll find them pasted everywhere,
On walls, on doors, on hoardings,
Triangular, round and square.
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Who will marry me, said the flea,
Why ever should I, said the fly,
I would willingly give you a hug, said the bug,
That would be nice, said the wood lice,
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Glorious is our Lord,
In his station up above,
Glorious, the one adored,
With his endless flow of love.
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Come and see the flowers in bloom,
Heavenly scents to fill a room,
Elaborate blossoms, in every hue,
Looking up, the sun to view,
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Whisk me away on a holiday,
Give me a chance to get away,
From all the stuffy, set routine,
Of work and chores at home, like clean,
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A pound in the slot and out comes the chain,
It's Saturday supermarket shopping again,
And so I've obtained my large wire trolley,
And when shopping, you certainly need loads of lolly!
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The river tumbles onwards to the sea,
And rushes, racing over rocks and stones,
And boulders, branches, pebbles, sand and scree,
Singing so many melodies to me,
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A big round bright red postbox,
Is such a splendid sight, to me,
And the way we try posting our letters,
Is, moreover, a 'fun' sight to see.
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This chap, had a cap
Pulled down over his face.
This was in case,
The rains, refrain.
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