JOY! ON SEEING A FLYING SPRING.
Reading edition
I MADE him quite at home, In a villa just by Rome,— An Italian, of the antient noble style,— But I saw him 'neath a star, And the tink of his guitar, Was an irritating thing, that made me smile, His object, was my spouse for to beguile, But when he caught it hot, With sporting gun, and shot, He took a flying spring, across a stile! His object, was my spouse for to beguile.