 | [Poems by Carryl in] Cap and gown |  |
41
Then and Now.
When first we met she was three feet high,
And three, I think, was her age as well,
A touch of the heaven was in her eye;
I cannot say she was very shy,
(As you'll see by her actions by and by),
But the way I behaved I blush to tell.
And three, I think, was her age as well,
A touch of the heaven was in her eye;
I cannot say she was very shy,
(As you'll see by her actions by and by),
But the way I behaved I blush to tell.
We met at a party, on the stair;
She was decked in ribbons and silk galore,
She smiled with a most bewitching air,
And then, I'm afraid, I pulled her hair.
You know you can't expect savoir-faire
Of a cavalier of the age of four!
She was decked in ribbons and silk galore,
She smiled with a most bewitching air,
And then, I'm afraid, I pulled her hair.
You know you can't expect savoir-faire
Of a cavalier of the age of four!
She only laughed with her subtle charm,
And took it more sweetly than you'd have believed,
But later she really took alarm—
When she wanted to kiss me I pinched her arm,
And she ran away to escape from harm;
At which, no doubt, I was much relieved.
And took it more sweetly than you'd have believed,
But later she really took alarm—
When she wanted to kiss me I pinched her arm,
And she ran away to escape from harm;
At which, no doubt, I was much relieved.
She did not offer to kiss again;
I saw her go off with another beau,
She pretended to hold up her ten-inch train,
And whispered low to her new-found swain.
I was eating ice-cream with might and main,—
And that was some seventeen years ago.
I saw her go off with another beau,
She pretended to hold up her ten-inch train,
42
I was eating ice-cream with might and main,—
And that was some seventeen years ago.
I see her to-night on the winding stair,
She replies with a smile to my sober bow;
The palms lean lovingly toward her hair,
And her foot keeps time to a distant air.
I'm afraid she does not recall or care
She does not offer to kiss me now!
She replies with a smile to my sober bow;
The palms lean lovingly toward her hair,
And her foot keeps time to a distant air.
I'm afraid she does not recall or care
She does not offer to kiss me now!
Heigho! What a sad, what a sweet affair,
What a curious mixture life seems to be!
I am fast in the net of love, and there,
With another man on the winding stair,
Is the girl I love,—and I pulled her hair
When she wanted a kiss at the age of three!
What a curious mixture life seems to be!
I am fast in the net of love, and there,
With another man on the winding stair,
Is the girl I love,—and I pulled her hair
When she wanted a kiss at the age of three!
| [Poems by Carryl in] Cap and gown | |