 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
JANET
I remember
That November
When the new November child
On this old world woke and smiled.
That November
When the new November child
On this old world woke and smiled.
Here's a woman,
Sweet and human,
And they call her Janet, now—
I can't make it out, I vow.
Sweet and human,
And they call her Janet, now—
I can't make it out, I vow.
308
It only seems
One night of dreams;
Years they say; how do they plan it?
What's become of Little Janet?
One night of dreams;
Years they say; how do they plan it?
What's become of Little Janet?
Never mind;
She's good; she's kind;
Age can never bend or win her;
There's a heart of youth within her.
She's good; she's kind;
Age can never bend or win her;
There's a heart of youth within her.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |