Robert Kirkland Kernighan
There's A Bullfrog In The Well. - Poem by Robert Kirkland Kernighan
Homesick to-night ! My heart is sick,
And, as days of yore,
I walk again the village street,
I see the village store
The same old-timer cod-fish
Is dangling near the door.
I hear the village joker joke ;
I hear the answering roar
He 's cracked those hoary-headed jokes
These twenty years or more,
Yet I could laugh at them again
Until my sides were sore.
Before that self-same window, there,
I used to stand and feed
My boyish eyes on candy wealth,
For candy was my creed,
And if I had a copper, O,
Then I was rich indeed.
I sit in awe upon a box,
My hands upon my knees,
THE KHAN S CANTICLES.
And hear the farmers as they talk
Of politics and cheese ;
Of horses, plows, the weather, crops,
And topics such as these.
Till all at once a vision bright
Stands in the open door ;
Her face is sweet, her feet are bare,
Her little frock is tore ;
My boyhood's darling ! Ah, my heart,
I '11 see that face no more.
Comments about There's A Bullfrog In The Well. by Robert Kirkland Kernighan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You