Author Walter William Skeat I seldom from my chamber stray, Yet work will ne'er proceed; Wide open lie my books all day, But never a page I read. The flute so well one neighbour plays, I pause to hear the air; Then pause again, to slily gaze At yonder neighbour fair. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments