Maurine and Other Poems

Maurine and Other Poems

I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune, Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June! Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair: The climbing rose-tree grew about me there, And checked with shade the sunny portico Where, morns like this, I came to read, or sew. I heard the gate click, and a firm, quick tread Upon the walk. No need to turn my head; I would mistake, and doubt my own voice sounding, Before his step upon the gravel bounding. In an unstudied attitude of grace, He stretched his comely form; and from his face He tossed the dark, damp curls; and at my knees, With his broad hat he fanned the lazy breeze, And turned his head, and lifted his large eyes, Of that strange hue we see in ocean dyes, And call it blue sometimes and sometimes green, p. 2And save in poet eyes, not elsewhere seen. Lest I should meet with my fair ladys scorning, For calling quite so early in the morning, Ive brought a passport that can never fail, He said, and, laughing, laid the morning mail Upon my lap. Im welcome? so I thought! Ill figure by the letters that I brought How glad you are to see me. Only one? And that one from a lady? Im undone! That, lightly skimmed, youll think me such a bore, And wonder why I did not bring you four. Its ever thus: a woman cannot get So many letters that she will not fret Oer one that did not come. Ill prove you wrong, I answered gaily, here upon the spot! This little letter, precious if not long, Is just the one, of all you might have brought, To please me. You have heard me speak, Im sure, Of Helen Trevor: she writes here to say Shes coming out to see me; and will stay Till Autumn, maybe. She is, like her note, Petite and dainty, tender, loving, pure. Youd know her by a letter that she wrote, For a sweet tinted thing. Tis always so: Letters all blots, though finely written, show A slovenly person. Letters stiff and white p. 3Bespeak a nature honest, plain, upright. And tissuey, tinted, perfumed notes, like this, Tell of a creature formed to pet and kiss. My listener heard me with a slow, odd smile; Stretched in abandon at my feet, the while, He fanned me idly with his broad-brimmed hat. Then all young ladies must be formed for that! He laughed, and said. Their letters read, and look, As like as twenty copies of one book. Theyre written in a dainty, spider scrawl, To darling, precious Kate, or Fan, or Moll. The dearest, sweetest friend they ever had. They say they want to see you, oh, so bad! Vow theyll forget you, never, never, oh! And then they tell about a splendid beau A lovely hata charming dress, and send A little scrap of this to every friend. And then to close, for lack of something better, They beg youll read and burn this horrid letter. ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 3665
Author: Wilcox, Ella Wheeler
Release Date: Jan 1, 2003
Format: eBook
Language: English