 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
August, 18—
Winnie has come: my husband thought it might cheer me a bit,
Having an old friend near me, clever and sparkling with wit,
Sharing old memories with me, full of the gossip of town—
The last new book or picture, or fashion of bonnet or gown.
And she was nice, at first, with her chatter about the old times,
When we were schoolmates, and sauntered under the oaks and limes,
And heard the hum of the bees, and the hum of our future in them,
Or watched the swift, brown squirrels climbing the grey beech-stem;
Bright little pictures she cut me out of the old school-world—
All about how we were dressed, and drilled, and scolded, and curled,
And lectured; and then she knows where all the girls have gone—
This with her husband to India, that to New Zealand alone,
Trusting to pick up a husband somewhere away in the bush,
Or, maybe, to set up a school, or to open a shop at a push.
May Grant, the wildest of us, has married a Low Church vicar,
Who holds by the orthodox faith, and port as the orthodox liquor;
While Helen, her sister, is all for chasubles, roods, and stoles,
Liftings and bowings, and Catholic manner of saving souls;
Elphie Deering has sold herself to a widower,
And drives in her carriage past his son who once courted her;
Others are strumming pianos, or working in Berlin wools
Pictures of foolish youths for catching the youthful fools;
Lizzie Morrit is dead—she was jilted by a dragoon,
When all her fortune appeared to be railway shares in the moon.
Winnie is clever, but sharp and sarcastic; and lays herself out
To please the men by her wit, which she scatters like sparks about;
No matter who may smart, if only herself may shine
With her spirits unflagging, that sparkle and gleam like wine.
I do not quite like her way with my husband; but all the same
I laugh, and she does me good, and I really am glad that she came.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |