Addressed to Jonathan Wingle, Esq.
In summer time we roam o'er dingle,
But winter draws us round the ingle ;
Why do you remain thus single,
When love would make two hearts tingle ?
Pray tell me why, my dearest Wingle,
With the fair you do not mingle ?
Better with love 'neath cot of shingle
Than all your yellow gold to jingle.
For married life you would enjoy,
And soon a little girl and boy
They would your leisure hours employ.
At Christmas you could buy each toy
And fill their little hearts with joy,
For their amusements never cloy.
Business cares do men annoy,
Child's happiness knows no alloy.
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Comments about this poem (Lines by James McIntyre )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
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- The Saddest Poem, Pablo Neruda
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
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- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou