 | Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox |  |
AT AN OLD DRAWER
Before this scarf was faded,
What hours of mirth it knew!
How gaily it paraded
For smiling eyes to view!
The days were tinged with glory,
The nights too quickly sped,
And life was like a story
Where all the people wed.
What hours of mirth it knew!
How gaily it paraded
For smiling eyes to view!
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The nights too quickly sped,
And life was like a story
Where all the people wed.
Before this rosebud wilted,
How passionately sweet
The wild waltz swelled and lilted
In time for flying feet!
How loud the bassoons muttered!
The horns grew madly shrill;
And, oh! the vows lips uttered
That hearts could not fulfil.
How passionately sweet
The wild waltz swelled and lilted
In time for flying feet!
How loud the bassoons muttered!
The horns grew madly shrill;
And, oh! the vows lips uttered
That hearts could not fulfil.
Before this fan was broken,
Behind its lace and pearl
What whispered words were spoken—
What hearts were in a whirl!
What homesteads were selected
In Fancy's realm of Spain!
What castles were erected,
Without a room for pain!
Behind its lace and pearl
What whispered words were spoken—
What hearts were in a whirl!
What homesteads were selected
In Fancy's realm of Spain!
What castles were erected,
Without a room for pain!
When this odd glove was mated,
How thrilling seemed the play!
Maybe our hearts are sated—
They tire so soon to-day.
Oh, shut away those treasures,
They speak the dreary truth—
We have outgrown the pleasures
And keen delights of youth.
How thrilling seemed the play!
Maybe our hearts are sated—
They tire so soon to-day.
Oh, shut away those treasures,
They speak the dreary truth—
We have outgrown the pleasures
And keen delights of youth.
| Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox | |