 | Poems and verses by Mary Mapes Dodge |  |
I.
We chose our blossoms, sitting on the grass;
His, Marguerites, with sunny, winsome faces,
Mine the bright clover, with its statelier graces.
“Let these decide the argument, my lass;
We'll watch,” said he, “the light-winged breezes pass
And note which first the earliest whiff displaces;
If it be daisy, yours the sore disgrace is,
And be it clover, then I yield, alas!”
His, Marguerites, with sunny, winsome faces,
Mine the bright clover, with its statelier graces.
“Let these decide the argument, my lass;
We'll watch,” said he, “the light-winged breezes pass
And note which first the earliest whiff displaces;
If it be daisy, yours the sore disgrace is,
And be it clover, then I yield, alas!”
The lightsome quarrel was but half in jest;
I would go homeward; he would sit and rest—
The foolish cousin whom I would not wed.
Smiling we waited; not a word we said.
In earnest he, and I quite debonair—
But oh, the stillness of that summer air!
I would go homeward; he would sit and rest—
The foolish cousin whom I would not wed.
Smiling we waited; not a word we said.
In earnest he, and I quite debonair—
But oh, the stillness of that summer air!
| Poems and verses by Mary Mapes Dodge | |