 | The Writings of Bret Harte |  |
“JESSIE”
She is tripping, she is tripping
Down the green and shady lane,
And each footstep's like the dripping
Of the early April rain.
As she passes, fragrant grasses,
Blooming flowers spring up again
Where her dainty footprint presses,
As from early April rain.
Down the green and shady lane,
And each footstep's like the dripping
Of the early April rain.
As she passes, fragrant grasses,
Blooming flowers spring up again
Where her dainty footprint presses,
As from early April rain.
Oh, the blessed, oft caressed,
Flowing, glowing, auburn tresses,
Or the fairy shape impressed
In the gracefullest of dresses;
To behold her, is to fold her
To your heart in puzzled bliss,
Whether still to wish her older
Or that she were always this.
Flowing, glowing, auburn tresses,
Or the fairy shape impressed
In the gracefullest of dresses;
To behold her, is to fold her
To your heart in puzzled bliss,
294
Or that she were always this.
Gentle Jessie! Heaven bless ye,
From your slipper's dainty toe
To the jaunty, canty, dressy
Little flat's most killing bow!
Would kind Heaven power had given
Me the proper path to show
Those retreating footsteps, even
Guiding them the way to go.
From your slipper's dainty toe
To the jaunty, canty, dressy
Little flat's most killing bow!
Would kind Heaven power had given
Me the proper path to show
Those retreating footsteps, even
Guiding them the way to go.
| The Writings of Bret Harte | |