 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
412
SCRUBBING THE STEPS.
She was scrubbing the steps as I passed,
And she stopt for a moment and met
My inquiring,
In a look too expressively glassed
Which she pardoned because it was yet
So admiring.
O her beautiful arms were both bare,
And she carried a crown if of care—
But untiring;
While our hands somehow mingled by chance,
And my heart began idly a dance
Of desiring.
And she stopt for a moment and met
My inquiring,
In a look too expressively glassed
Which she pardoned because it was yet
So admiring.
O her beautiful arms were both bare,
And she carried a crown if of care—
But untiring;
While our hands somehow mingled by chance,
And my heart began idly a dance
Of desiring.
She was scrubbing the steps—that is all—
When I ventured upon a warm touch,
Not defended;
And I let a few compliments fall
Which were fervent at least, if not such
As intended;
But they came in a hurry, like me,
And I had not the leisure to see
Them amended;
And our lips got together and kist
By an act, in the morning and mist,
Soon expended.
When I ventured upon a warm touch,
Not defended;
And I let a few compliments fall
Which were fervent at least, if not such
As intended;
But they came in a hurry, like me,
And I had not the leisure to see
Them amended;
And our lips got together and kist
By an act, in the morning and mist,
Soon expended.
She was scrubbing the steps, as I left
Her bright brow with a halo of joy,
But unresting;
None the sadder because of my theft,
As if drudging were only a toy,
Not protesting.
And I could not forbear looking still
Back at beauty, that took with good will
My molesting;
And I wished I could oftener meet,
On my business and journeys, so sweet
An arresting.
Her bright brow with a halo of joy,
But unresting;
None the sadder because of my theft,
As if drudging were only a toy,
Not protesting.
And I could not forbear looking still
Back at beauty, that took with good will
My molesting;
And I wished I could oftener meet,
On my business and journeys, so sweet
An arresting.
413
She is scrubbing the steps, as I go
Through the bustle and bother of days
Yet laborious;
While I drift with the feverish flow
In the mire and the murmuring ways
And censorious.
For in fancy I turn to the time
When I heard that susurrus and chime
Not inglorious;
And when now I plunge into the strife
She is scrubbing the steps of my life—
And victorious.
Through the bustle and bother of days
Yet laborious;
While I drift with the feverish flow
In the mire and the murmuring ways
And censorious.
For in fancy I turn to the time
When I heard that susurrus and chime
Not inglorious;
And when now I plunge into the strife
She is scrubbing the steps of my life—
And victorious.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |