IN THE PARLOUR (i)
Reading edition
Come away from the door. It has grown late; The air is chill and frore, And those whom you await Will not pass by any more. Close the shutters aright And make all fast. We shall have rain belike, The sky is overcast: No one will come here to-night. Sit you down by my side, Sing an old song. Since you have been my bride How well I like these long Quiet evenings in Advent-tide.