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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
“Misthress!” says Nelly, “Misthress! mother!
My own! my own! for I haven' no other,
Or if I have—O kindest friend!
O sweet! O good! O . . . mother then!
Mother, my heart is like to break!”
But the misthress, you know, she couldn' spake—
“O Misthress, is your heart turned hard to me?
O Misthress, won't you spake a word to me?
Just a word! a word! Oh spake
Any word—for Jesus' sake!
Am I a naughty gel, Mrs. Cain?
Am I? am I? I didn' mane—
Misthress! Misthress! I didn' know—
Am I! am I! Must I go?”
My own! my own! for I haven' no other,
Or if I have—O kindest friend!
O sweet! O good! O . . . mother then!
Mother, my heart is like to break!”
But the misthress, you know, she couldn' spake—
“O Misthress, is your heart turned hard to me?
O Misthress, won't you spake a word to me?
Just a word! a word! Oh spake
Any word—for Jesus' sake!
Am I a naughty gel, Mrs. Cain?
Am I? am I? I didn' mane—
Misthress! Misthress! I didn' know—
Am I! am I! Must I go?”
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |