Agnes, over the half door
Of their old thatched house,
Roguish eyes disarming,
Handed us some apples:
Coveted Beauty of Bath
From the tempting orchard,
Tasting as sweet as a kiss-
And it's still a taste I miss;
Freckled red and yellow,
Flushed white to the core;
Scholars in the afternoon,
After one, wanting more.
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Comments about this poem (Agnes by Matt Mooney )
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