 | Dorothy |  |
Curious, the ways of these folk of humble and hardy condition:
Kisses, amongst ourselves, bless me, how much they imply!
Ere you can come to a kiss, you must scale the whole gamut of courtship—
Introduction first; pretty attentions and words;
Tentative looks; and at length, perhaps the touch of a finger;
Then the confession; and then (if she allow it) the kiss.
So that a kiss comes last—'tis the crown and seal of the whole thing;
Passion avow'd by you, fondly accepted by her.
But in our Dorothy's class, a kiss only marks the beginning:
Comes me a light-hearted swain, thinking of nothing at all;
Flings his fustian sleeve round the ample waist of the maiden;
Kisses her cheek, and she—laughingly thrusts him away.
Why, 'tis a matter of course; every good-looking damsel expects it;
'Tis but the homage, she feels, paid to her beauty by men:
So that, at Kiss-in-the-Ring—an innocent game and a good one—
Strangers in plenty may kiss: nay, she pursues, in her turn.
Not that our Dorothy did; though she went to the fair with her mistress:
She was too grave for that, too unaccustom'd to play;
But she stood by, with a smile, while the other girls fled from their partners,
And she approved in her heart, when they were captured and kiss'd.
Why did her heart thus approve? It was not that she wanted a sweetheart;
She never thought of such things—she, with her hands full of work!
And, there was no one to have: Mr. Robert was ‘meat for her betters’;
He had a house of his own; and, though he often appear'd,
Mary (for Ann had died), her master's delicate daughter—
Mary, she thought, was his game: she was the sweetheart for him.
True, he had once and again given Dolly a kiss or a fairing;
But she thought nothing of that—that was the way of the men:
Haply he did it, she thought, because she belong'd to the Missis—
Trying his hand on her, waiting for Mary awhile.
Then, there was Billy the boy, who help'd her at times with the ladder,
When she was busy aloft, cleaning the windows upstairs;
He was too young: he was rude: he would oft run away, and leave her
High on the ladder alone, just when a cart was at hand!
As for Carter John, whom she help'd in the stable and cowhouse,
He was a married man, weighted with women and bairns:
So there was no one to have; not a soul—except Mr. Robert—
For with the village lads she had but little to do.
Kisses, amongst ourselves, bless me, how much they imply!
Ere you can come to a kiss, you must scale the whole gamut of courtship—
Introduction first; pretty attentions and words;
Tentative looks; and at length, perhaps the touch of a finger;
Then the confession; and then (if she allow it) the kiss.
So that a kiss comes last—'tis the crown and seal of the whole thing;
Passion avow'd by you, fondly accepted by her.
But in our Dorothy's class, a kiss only marks the beginning:
Comes me a light-hearted swain, thinking of nothing at all;
Flings his fustian sleeve round the ample waist of the maiden;
Kisses her cheek, and she—laughingly thrusts him away.
7
'Tis but the homage, she feels, paid to her beauty by men:
So that, at Kiss-in-the-Ring—an innocent game and a good one—
Strangers in plenty may kiss: nay, she pursues, in her turn.
Not that our Dorothy did; though she went to the fair with her mistress:
She was too grave for that, too unaccustom'd to play;
But she stood by, with a smile, while the other girls fled from their partners,
And she approved in her heart, when they were captured and kiss'd.
Why did her heart thus approve? It was not that she wanted a sweetheart;
She never thought of such things—she, with her hands full of work!
And, there was no one to have: Mr. Robert was ‘meat for her betters’;
He had a house of his own; and, though he often appear'd,
Mary (for Ann had died), her master's delicate daughter—
Mary, she thought, was his game: she was the sweetheart for him.
True, he had once and again given Dolly a kiss or a fairing;
But she thought nothing of that—that was the way of the men:
Haply he did it, she thought, because she belong'd to the Missis—
Trying his hand on her, waiting for Mary awhile.
Then, there was Billy the boy, who help'd her at times with the ladder,
When she was busy aloft, cleaning the windows upstairs;
He was too young: he was rude: he would oft run away, and leave her
High on the ladder alone, just when a cart was at hand!
As for Carter John, whom she help'd in the stable and cowhouse,
He was a married man, weighted with women and bairns:
So there was no one to have; not a soul—except Mr. Robert—
For with the village lads she had but little to do.
| Dorothy | |