 | Poems and verses by Mary Mapes Dodge |  |
67
VERS-DE-SOCIÉTÉ AND RANDOM RHYMES
69
THE MINUET.
Grandma told me all about it,
Told me so I could n't doubt it,
How she danced—my Grandma danced!—
Long ago.
How she held her pretty head,
How her dainty skirt she spread,
Turning out her little toes;
How she slowly leaned and rose—
Long ago.
Told me so I could n't doubt it,
How she danced—my Grandma danced!—
Long ago.
How she held her pretty head,
How her dainty skirt she spread,
Turning out her little toes;
How she slowly leaned and rose—
Long ago.
Grandma's hair was bright and sunny;
Dimpled cheeks, too—ah, how funny!
Really quite a pretty girl,
Long ago.
Bless her! why, she wears a cap,
Grandma does, and takes a nap
Every single day; and yet
Grandma danced the minuet
Long ago.
Dimpled cheeks, too—ah, how funny!
Really quite a pretty girl,
Long ago.
Bless her! why, she wears a cap,
Grandma does, and takes a nap
Every single day; and yet
Grandma danced the minuet
Long ago.
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Now she sits there, rocking, rocking,
Always knitting Grandpa's stocking—
(Every girl was taught to knit
Long ago.)
Yet her figure is so neat,
And her ways so staid and sweet,
I can almost see her now
Bending to her partner's bow,
Long ago.
Always knitting Grandpa's stocking—
(Every girl was taught to knit
Long ago.)
Yet her figure is so neat,
And her ways so staid and sweet,
I can almost see her now
Bending to her partner's bow,
Long ago.
Grandma says our modern jumping,
Hopping, rushing, whirling, bumping,
Would have shocked the gentle folk
Long ago.
No—they moved with stately grace,
Everything in proper place,
Gliding slowly forward, then
Slowly courtseying back again,
Long ago.
Hopping, rushing, whirling, bumping,
Would have shocked the gentle folk
Long ago.
No—they moved with stately grace,
Everything in proper place,
Gliding slowly forward, then
Slowly courtseying back again,
Long ago.
Modern ways are quite alarming,
Grandma says; but boys were charming—
Girls and boys, I mean, of course—
Long ago.
Brave but modest, grandly shy,—
She would like to have us try
Just to feel like those who met
In the graceful minuet
Long ago.
Grandma says; but boys were charming—
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Long ago.
Brave but modest, grandly shy,—
She would like to have us try
Just to feel like those who met
In the graceful minuet
Long ago.
Were the minuet in fashion,
Who could fly into a passion?
All would wear the calm they wore
Long ago.
In time to come, if I, perchance,
Should tell my grandchild of our dance,
I should really like to say:
“We did it, dear, in stately way,
Long ago.”
Who could fly into a passion?
All would wear the calm they wore
Long ago.
In time to come, if I, perchance,
Should tell my grandchild of our dance,
I should really like to say:
“We did it, dear, in stately way,
Long ago.”
72
“WHAT 'S IN A NAME.”
Once on a time, where jewels flashedAnd rose-hid fountains softly plashed,
And all the air was sweet and bright
With music, mirth and deft delight—
A courtly dame drew, smiling, near
A poet, greatest of his time,
And chirped a question in his ear
With voice like silver bells in chime:
“Good Master Shakespeare, I would know
The name thy lady bore, in sooth,
Ere thine? Nay, little while ago
It was, for still we see her youth.
Some high-born name, I trow, and yet
Though I have heard it, I forget.”
Then answered he,
With dignity,
Yet blithely, as the hour was gay:
“Ann Hathaway.”
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Too fair and winsome to be rude—
“'T is hinted here, and whispered there,
By doughty knights and ladies fair,
That—that—well, that her loyal lord
Doth e'en obey her slightest will.
Now, my good spouse, I pledge my word,
Though loving well, doth heed me ill.
Her witchery I pray thee tell,”
She pleaded, with a pretty frown,
“I fain would know what mighty spell
Can bring a haughty husband down.”
Flushing, she raised her eager face
To his, with merry, plaintive grace.
Then answered he,
With dignity,
Yet blithely, as the hour was gay:
“Fair lady, I can only say,
Ann hath a way.”
74
THE LETTER.
My letter is finished; but how shall it end?
Shall I sign it just “Bertha McCaul”?
It 's so awkward to write to a gentleman friend,
And to Charlie it 's hardest of all.
Shall I sign it just “Bertha McCaul”?
It 's so awkward to write to a gentleman friend,
And to Charlie it 's hardest of all.
Shall I say, “Yours respectfully”? Horrible! No,
That would be quite insulting, I'm sure;
Or “Cordially yours”? or “Your friend So-and-so”?
These phrases I cannot endure!
That would be quite insulting, I'm sure;
Or “Cordially yours”? or “Your friend So-and-so”?
These phrases I cannot endure!
Well, “Sincerely your friend”? No, that is n't quite true.
Or “Yours to command”? That 's too meek.
“Yours as ever”? Oh, shocking! That never would do—
We were strangers till Michaelmas week.
Or “Yours to command”? That 's too meek.
“Yours as ever”? Oh, shocking! That never would do—
We were strangers till Michaelmas week.
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I have it! I 've written quite fast (we'll suppose).
“Yours in haste.” Ah, that hardly sounds right!
He may take it in literal earnest,—who knows?—
Which would put me in rather a plight.
“Yours in haste.” Ah, that hardly sounds right!
He may take it in literal earnest,—who knows?—
Which would put me in rather a plight.
Dear me! How perplexing! There is an expression
That might tell what he never must know—
And yet, though it almost would be a confession,
He 'd hardly interpret it so.
That might tell what he never must know—
And yet, though it almost would be a confession,
He 'd hardly interpret it so.
'T is so common to use it; I 've written it often,
But ne'er felt its meaning before.
He'll never suspect (ah, I see his eye soften
While scanning my note o'er and o'er).
But ne'er felt its meaning before.
He'll never suspect (ah, I see his eye soften
While scanning my note o'er and o'er).
So I'll say it. Why not? What harm can it do?
'T is written; and now past all mending.
“Yours truly”—I feel as if somehow he knew,
Though it 's really a commonplace ending.
'T is written; and now past all mending.
“Yours truly”—I feel as if somehow he knew,
Though it 's really a commonplace ending.
76
MARY, THE COOK.
It is strange what a world of romance,
What a 'wildering, witching spell,
Hangs about Mary, the cook.
Why, it 's music to sit in her silence,
And (I 'm not ashamed to tell)
It 's heaven to catch but her look.
She, rubbing the lamps, well might madden
The stoniest slave of Aladdin—
In short, if you wish to know sweetness
And deftness and magical neatness,
You 've only to look
At Mary, the cook.
What a 'wildering, witching spell,
Hangs about Mary, the cook.
Why, it 's music to sit in her silence,
And (I 'm not ashamed to tell)
It 's heaven to catch but her look.
She, rubbing the lamps, well might madden
The stoniest slave of Aladdin—
In short, if you wish to know sweetness
And deftness and magical neatness,
You 've only to look
At Mary, the cook.
You see, as we 're all on a picnic,
Some duties must fall to the girls:
So Mary is boiling the tea.
Ah, who would n't be an old kettle
To mirror those tumbled curls,
And sing near her heart for glee!
Charley and Kate, by the beeches,
Are opening pickles and peaches;
The others devising a table;
While I, like the fox in the fable,
Sit vainly and look
At Mary, the cook.
Some duties must fall to the girls:
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Ah, who would n't be an old kettle
To mirror those tumbled curls,
And sing near her heart for glee!
Charley and Kate, by the beeches,
Are opening pickles and peaches;
The others devising a table;
While I, like the fox in the fable,
Sit vainly and look
At Mary, the cook.
She 's “steady”—I 'd swear it. And “sober”?
Well, no—by that mischievous laugh!
“Willing”? A fellow can't tell,
Though she knows how I long to ask her,
Or guesses it more than half,
Which answers nearly as well.
Shall I ask her? (But ah, what effront'ry—
The stunningest girl in the country!)
To always be—Jove! Is she flushing
Over that fire—or—blushing?
What if I rose and “took”
Mary, the cook!
Well, no—by that mischievous laugh!
“Willing”? A fellow can't tell,
Though she knows how I long to ask her,
Or guesses it more than half,
Which answers nearly as well.
Shall I ask her? (But ah, what effront'ry—
The stunningest girl in the country!)
To always be—Jove! Is she flushing
Over that fire—or—blushing?
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Mary, the cook!
Mine! by the grand old beeches!
Mine! by the pickles and peaches!
Mine! by the rippling brook!
Mine! by the sunset splendor!
Mine! by the starlight tender!
Mary, the cook!
Mine! by the pickles and peaches!
Mine! by the rippling brook!
Mine! by the sunset splendor!
Mine! by the starlight tender!
Mary, the cook!
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LITTLE WORDS.
How wise he is! He can talk in Greek!
There is n't a language he cannot speak.
The very measure the Psalmist sung
He carries at will on the tip of his tongue.
When he argues in English, why, every word
Is almost the biggest that ever you heard!
That is, when he talks with Papa it 's so—
With me it 's another affair, you know.
There is n't a language he cannot speak.
The very measure the Psalmist sung
He carries at will on the tip of his tongue.
When he argues in English, why, every word
Is almost the biggest that ever you heard!
That is, when he talks with Papa it 's so—
With me it 's another affair, you know.
Little one-syllable words, you see,
Are all he is willing to waste upon me;
So he calls me his rose, his bird, his pet,
And says it quite often, lest I should forget;
While his wonderful verbs grow meagre and small;
You 'd think he had ne'er opened Rogèt at all.
It 's only: “Ah, do you?” or “Will you, my dove?”
Or else it 's: “I love,” “I love,” and “I love.”
Are all he is willing to waste upon me;
So he calls me his rose, his bird, his pet,
And says it quite often, lest I should forget;
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You 'd think he had ne'er opened Rogèt at all.
It 's only: “Ah, do you?” or “Will you, my dove?”
Or else it 's: “I love,” “I love,” and “I love.”
And when we walk out in the starry night,
Though he knows the Zodiac's rounded height,
With its Gemini, Scorpio, Leo, and all,
Its nebulæ, planets, and satellites small,
And though, in a flash, he could turn his proud eye on
The Dipper, and Crown, and the Belt of Orion;—
Not once does he mention the wonders above,
But just whispers softly: “My own!” and “I love!”
Though he knows the Zodiac's rounded height,
With its Gemini, Scorpio, Leo, and all,
Its nebulæ, planets, and satellites small,
And though, in a flash, he could turn his proud eye on
The Dipper, and Crown, and the Belt of Orion;—
Not once does he mention the wonders above,
But just whispers softly: “My own!” and “I love!”
Whenever they tease me—the girls and boys—
With: “Mrs. Professor,” or “classical joys,”
Or ask if his passion he deigns to speak
In Hebrew, or Sanscrit or simple Greek,—
I try to summon a look of steel,
And hide the joy that I really feel.
For they 'd laugh still more if they knew the truth
How meek a professor can be, forsooth!
With: “Mrs. Professor,” or “classical joys,”
Or ask if his passion he deigns to speak
In Hebrew, or Sanscrit or simple Greek,—
I try to summon a look of steel,
And hide the joy that I really feel.
For they 'd laugh still more if they knew the truth
How meek a professor can be, forsooth!
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Though well I know, in the days to come
Great thoughts shall preside in our happy home;
And to hold forever his loving looks
I must bend my head over musty books,
And be as learned as ever I can
To do full justice to such a man,—
The future is bright, for, like song of birds,
My soul is filled with his little words.
Great thoughts shall preside in our happy home;
And to hold forever his loving looks
I must bend my head over musty books,
And be as learned as ever I can
To do full justice to such a man,—
The future is bright, for, like song of birds,
My soul is filled with his little words.
82
A THANKSGIVING PARTY.
Banks and his wife consulted,
One bright November day,
Planning a princely dinner
In a pleasant, airy way.
“We'll have a grand Thanksgiving,”
Said Banks; “and, Polly dear,
You get the guests together,
And I'll provide the cheer.”
One bright November day,
Planning a princely dinner
In a pleasant, airy way.
“We'll have a grand Thanksgiving,”
Said Banks; “and, Polly dear,
You get the guests together,
And I'll provide the cheer.”
Then Banks, with heart o'erflowing,
Said, “Now 's the time, my dear,
To ask one's wife's relations;
So let them all be here.
Yes, ask them all, my darling;
Your husband 's not the man
To stop half-way in making
A pleasant family plan.”
Said, “Now 's the time, my dear,
To ask one's wife's relations;
So let them all be here.
Yes, ask them all, my darling;
Your husband 's not the man
To stop half-way in making
A pleasant family plan.”
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So Polly asked her people
(And they were not a few)—
Papa, mama, and brothers,
And all her sisters, too.
These brought their little children—
A laughing, romping crowd;
And in the after-dinner speech
Banks really did feel “proud.”
(And they were not a few)—
Papa, mama, and brothers,
And all her sisters, too.
These brought their little children—
A laughing, romping crowd;
And in the after-dinner speech
Banks really did feel “proud.”
Yet through it all a shadow
Into his bosom stole:
He knew what bills were coming in;
They paralyzed his soul!
He knew that Mother Pippling
Was whispering good advice
In Polly's ear, and, somehow,
That was n't very nice.
Into his bosom stole:
He knew what bills were coming in;
They paralyzed his soul!
He knew that Mother Pippling
Was whispering good advice
In Polly's ear, and, somehow,
That was n't very nice.
He knew the romping children
Had done him damage dire
(For Banks had dainty furniture
As any could desire);
But still the guests were merry;
The dinner “went off well,”
In spite of many vexing things
One does n't care to tell.
Had done him damage dire
(For Banks had dainty furniture
As any could desire);
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The dinner “went off well,”
In spite of many vexing things
One does n't care to tell.
And when, at last, 't was over,
And ev'ry guest gone home,
The tumbled house quite still again,
And resting-time had come,
Sweet Mrs. Banks said cheerily:
“My dear, how kind of them
To come to us! Though mother—”
(Banks softly coughed “Ahem!”)
And ev'ry guest gone home,
The tumbled house quite still again,
And resting-time had come,
Sweet Mrs. Banks said cheerily:
“My dear, how kind of them
To come to us! Though mother—”
(Banks softly coughed “Ahem!”)
“Yes, mother noticed—bless her!—
One slight omission, dear:
She said Thanksgiving dinners
Without one ‘thank’ were queer.
I know you don't say grace, dear;
But does n't it seem to you
That to give thanks at such a time
Is what one ought to do?”
One slight omission, dear:
She said Thanksgiving dinners
Without one ‘thank’ were queer.
I know you don't say grace, dear;
But does n't it seem to you
That to give thanks at such a time
Is what one ought to do?”
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He fell into a reverie.
“You 're right!” he sighed at last;
“Thank Heaven the thing is over;
They 're gone, and all is past!”
And so, in simple language,
By that good husband Banks,
The grand Thanksgiving dinner
Was crowned by hearty thanks.
“You 're right!” he sighed at last;
“Thank Heaven the thing is over;
They 're gone, and all is past!”
And so, in simple language,
By that good husband Banks,
The grand Thanksgiving dinner
Was crowned by hearty thanks.
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OVER THE WAY.
Over the way, over the way,
I 've seen a head that 's fair and gray;
I 've seen kind eyes not new to tears,
A form of grace, though full of years—
Her fifty summers have left no flaw—
And I, a youth of twenty-three,
So love this lady, fair to see,
I want her for my mother-in-law!
I 've seen a head that 's fair and gray;
I 've seen kind eyes not new to tears,
A form of grace, though full of years—
Her fifty summers have left no flaw—
And I, a youth of twenty-three,
So love this lady, fair to see,
I want her for my mother-in-law!
Over the way, over the way,
I 've seen her with the children play;
I 've seen her with a royal grace
Before the mirror adjust her lace;
A kinder woman none ever saw;
God bless and cheer her onward path,
And bless all treasures that she hath,
And let her be my mother-in-law!
I 've seen her with the children play;
I 've seen her with a royal grace
Before the mirror adjust her lace;
A kinder woman none ever saw;
God bless and cheer her onward path,
And bless all treasures that she hath,
And let her be my mother-in-law!
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Over the way, over the way,
I think I'll venture, dear, some day
(If you will lend a helping hand,
And sanctify the scheme I 've planned);
I'll kneel in loving, reverent awe
Down at the lady's feet, and say:
“I 've loved your daughter many a day—
Please won't you be my mother-in-law?”
I think I'll venture, dear, some day
(If you will lend a helping hand,
And sanctify the scheme I 've planned);
I'll kneel in loving, reverent awe
Down at the lady's feet, and say:
“I 've loved your daughter many a day—
Please won't you be my mother-in-law?”
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I LOVE MY LOVE.
“I love my love with a Y,
Because he is young,” answered I.
We were only playing a game,
But I spoke in truth, all the same,
And pretended I did not see
The glance that came flashing to me.
Because he is young,” answered I.
We were only playing a game,
But I spoke in truth, all the same,
And pretended I did not see
The glance that came flashing to me.
When next my turn came around
I cast my eyes to the ground
With “I love my love with a G,
Because he is graceful and free.”
And there he sat, wondering, by,
Quite lame!—that I could n't deny.
I cast my eyes to the ground
With “I love my love with a G,
Because he is graceful and free.”
And there he sat, wondering, by,
Quite lame!—that I could n't deny.
And soon, when they wanted to know
Why I loved my love with an O,
I said, with an air of content,
“Why, because he is opulent.”
Then he knew, for he smiled at the word—
Though you would n't have thought that he heard.
Why I loved my love with an O,
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“Why, because he is opulent.”
Then he knew, for he smiled at the word—
Though you would n't have thought that he heard.
Yes, older than I very much,
And walking, poor dear! with a crutch,
And nothing in bank, so they say,
But the little he earns day by day—
Yet young as a child, and his ways
Are graceful beyond poet's praise.
And rich? It was only a game,
Yet I answered in truth, all the same.
And walking, poor dear! with a crutch,
And nothing in bank, so they say,
But the little he earns day by day—
Yet young as a child, and his ways
Are graceful beyond poet's praise.
And rich? It was only a game,
Yet I answered in truth, all the same.
90
SUMMER LONGINGS.
Down by the sea, down by the sea,
A cool, sandy beach lies a-waiting for me,
The waves they may plash;
The surf it may dash—
Be it sunshine or storm, for my coming they wait,
Starfish and mussel and sweet-smiling skate,—
All things of the sea
Are waiting for me.
A cool, sandy beach lies a-waiting for me,
The waves they may plash;
The surf it may dash—
Be it sunshine or storm, for my coming they wait,
Starfish and mussel and sweet-smiling skate,—
All things of the sea
Are waiting for me.
Down by the sea, down by the sea,
A breezy piazza is waiting for me;
And tennis; cool drinks;
And golf on the links;
And music at nightfall, with lamps on the lawn,
And the surf rolling madly from midnight till dawn,—
All joys of the sea
Are waiting for me.
A breezy piazza is waiting for me;
And tennis; cool drinks;
And golf on the links;
And music at nightfall, with lamps on the lawn,
And the surf rolling madly from midnight till dawn,—
All joys of the sea
Are waiting for me.
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Down by the sea, down by the sea,
A beautiful maiden is waiting for me;
I know not her name,
Nor wherefore she came;
But I know, by the moon overhead, that it shines
On the shore where a summer girl wanders and pines,—
(The maiden, you see,
Who 's waiting for me.)
A beautiful maiden is waiting for me;
I know not her name,
Nor wherefore she came;
But I know, by the moon overhead, that it shines
On the shore where a summer girl wanders and pines,—
(The maiden, you see,
Who 's waiting for me.)
Down by the sea, down by the sea,
The morrow shall find me—if morrow there be;
I'll stay there awhile,
And live in her smile;
Enjoy the piazza, the surf, and the plash;
The tennis; the golf; oh, I'll cut quite a dash!
And be happy—so happy!—Then, quite out of cash,
Come back from the shore
To the dusty old store,
And see her no more—
Heigh-ho!
The morrow shall find me—if morrow there be;
I'll stay there awhile,
And live in her smile;
Enjoy the piazza, the surf, and the plash;
The tennis; the golf; oh, I'll cut quite a dash!
And be happy—so happy!—Then, quite out of cash,
Come back from the shore
To the dusty old store,
And see her no more—
Heigh-ho!
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MAMA'S “DAYS” AT HOME.
Now, Bessie, you're my dearest friend,
My very best, you know;
Our Thursdays without you, dear,
Would be just dull and slow.
So, darling, please be sure to come;
We'll both “receive” in style;
Mama is bored, and as for me,
It hardly seems worth while,
Since everybody knows quite well
That I am “caught” at last,
A willing and a happy bird,
By Jack's dear hand held fast.
My very best, you know;
Our Thursdays without you, dear,
Would be just dull and slow.
So, darling, please be sure to come;
We'll both “receive” in style;
Mama is bored, and as for me,
It hardly seems worth while,
Since everybody knows quite well
That I am “caught” at last,
A willing and a happy bird,
By Jack's dear hand held fast.
Who came last week? Well, let me see:
Oh, it was grand! The air
Was keen and bright, alive with light
And gladness everywhere.
At three o'clock in walked my boy—
Dear Jack, you know; and, Bess,
How perfectly absurd he was,
And nice, you 'd never guess.
Then others came: a stupid lot,
Just fops, some eight or nine;
And then a crowd of silly girls.—
But Jack, he stayed to dine.
Well, Bess, such grand times as we had,
With whispering and chaffing!
No one was there but mama's friends;
I thought we 'd die with laughing.
When Jack was gone, two dismal bores
Named Jones came in; and then
I almost yawned: you never saw
Such dreary, gawky men!
Oh, it was grand! The air
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And gladness everywhere.
At three o'clock in walked my boy—
Dear Jack, you know; and, Bess,
How perfectly absurd he was,
And nice, you 'd never guess.
Then others came: a stupid lot,
Just fops, some eight or nine;
And then a crowd of silly girls.—
But Jack, he stayed to dine.
Well, Bess, such grand times as we had,
With whispering and chaffing!
No one was there but mama's friends;
I thought we 'd die with laughing.
When Jack was gone, two dismal bores
Named Jones came in; and then
I almost yawned: you never saw
Such dreary, gawky men!
But when the clock struck half-past eight,
Who should come in but Jack?
'T was perfectly ridiculous,
And looked quite queer, alack!
'T was such relief to hear his voice
And see his noble form!
(If Jack should go upon the stage
He 'd take the world by storm!)
He stayed an hour, and all the while
They came by strings and strings,
And wished me, oh, so many “joys,”
The kindly, tiresome things!
And so it went—a glorious day
Last Thursday was; and then—
Well, you must know that foolish Jack
Came back again—at ten!
And until midnight we two sat
And talked and laughed together,
While poor mama saw all the rest,
And talked about the weather.
Who should come in but Jack?
'T was perfectly ridiculous,
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'T was such relief to hear his voice
And see his noble form!
(If Jack should go upon the stage
He 'd take the world by storm!)
He stayed an hour, and all the while
They came by strings and strings,
And wished me, oh, so many “joys,”
The kindly, tiresome things!
And so it went—a glorious day
Last Thursday was; and then—
Well, you must know that foolish Jack
Came back again—at ten!
And until midnight we two sat
And talked and laughed together,
While poor mama saw all the rest,
And talked about the weather.
'T was splendid, dear. And now, my love,
You can't know how I'll grieve
If you don't come to us next week,
And help me to receive.
“A dismal prospect,” do you say?
Now how can that be true?
Jack is no snob, and really, dear,
He 's very fond of you.
You can't know how I'll grieve
If you don't come to us next week,
And help me to receive.
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Now how can that be true?
Jack is no snob, and really, dear,
He 's very fond of you.
96
OF ALL THE YEAR.
Nora and I in the sunlight basked
When the woods were in crimson drest.
“Of all the times of the year,” she asked,
“Which is the gladdest?
Which is the saddest?
And which do you love the best?”
When the woods were in crimson drest.
“Of all the times of the year,” she asked,
“Which is the gladdest?
Which is the saddest?
And which do you love the best?”
I looked in her face with a yearning pain
While I answered, as half in jest,
“Of all the seasons, in shine or rain,
This is the saddest,
This is the gladdest,
And this do I love the best.”
While I answered, as half in jest,
“Of all the seasons, in shine or rain,
This is the saddest,
This is the gladdest,
And this do I love the best.”
“Stupid!” she cried in her laughing voice:
“Of spring, summer, winter, or fall,
There surely is more than a single choice;
To me, one is saddest,
Another is gladdest,
And one is the dearest of all.”
“Of spring, summer, winter, or fall,
There surely is more than a single choice;
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Another is gladdest,
And one is the dearest of all.”
Still I declared that, ask when she would,
Though 't were winter or spring or the rest,
With her by my side, but one answer seemed good:
That would be gladdest,
That would be saddest,
That season sweetest and best.
Though 't were winter or spring or the rest,
With her by my side, but one answer seemed good:
That would be gladdest,
That would be saddest,
That season sweetest and best.
“Why, what could it have to be saddest about?”
She asked, with a smile at it all.
So I told her at once of my pain and doubt,
And lo! both our secrets came creeping out
In the glory and shade of the fall.
And nevermore saddest,
But holiest, gladdest,
We found the best season of all!
She asked, with a smile at it all.
So I told her at once of my pain and doubt,
And lo! both our secrets came creeping out
In the glory and shade of the fall.
And nevermore saddest,
But holiest, gladdest,
We found the best season of all!
98
AT THE PICTURE-GALLERY.
We went to see the pictures, Tom and I,
Because, in truth, we both are fond of art;
And then, besides—well, I will tell you why:
We wished to learn each painter's style by heart.
Because, in truth, we both are fond of art;
And then, besides—well, I will tell you why:
We wished to learn each painter's style by heart.
We lingered all the afternoon, we two—
It was so pleasant in the softened light.
Around and round we went, each gem to view,
And often almost knelt, for better sight.
It was so pleasant in the softened light.
Around and round we went, each gem to view,
And often almost knelt, for better sight.
Judging by haltings, and long, eager looks,
By rustling converse with our guide and friend,
The catalogue had seemed the book of books,
And life a stretch of paintings to the end.
By rustling converse with our guide and friend,
The catalogue had seemed the book of books,
And life a stretch of paintings to the end.
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Picture by picture, page by page, we went,
Dubbed this one “perfect” and that other “poor.”
You never saw two critics so intent;
I don't know what folks thought of us, I'm sure.
Dubbed this one “perfect” and that other “poor.”
You never saw two critics so intent;
I don't know what folks thought of us, I'm sure.
Yet, do you know, some things drive others out:
If you had asked me ere another day
About the pictures on those walls, I doubt
If I had known a single word to say.
If you had asked me ere another day
About the pictures on those walls, I doubt
If I had known a single word to say.
In fact, that evening, in our homeward walk,
We settled much concerning Tom and me;
And not one word was said, in all our talk,
Of pictures or of painters—don't you see?
We settled much concerning Tom and me;
And not one word was said, in all our talk,
Of pictures or of painters—don't you see?
100
“THIS WICKED WORLD.”
One winter's day, some years ago,
I came to dwell on earth;
The parish clerk, in legal form,
He registered my birth.
I came to dwell on earth;
The parish clerk, in legal form,
He registered my birth.
No pauper I. Ten lovely toes
Were mine to have and hold;
And also two as rosy fists
As e'er made baby bold.
Were mine to have and hold;
And also two as rosy fists
As e'er made baby bold.
I thrived in dreams of catnip tea,
And lullaby and rattle;
And varied all the waking hours
With “gug-gal-loo” for prattle.
And lullaby and rattle;
And varied all the waking hours
With “gug-gal-loo” for prattle.
Then came the first grand balance act,
And then the feat of walking;
Then “mam-mam,” “pap-pa-pa,” and then
The miracle of talking.
And then the feat of walking;
Then “mam-mam,” “pap-pa-pa,” and then
The miracle of talking.
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So far, so good. I 'd tasted joys,
And arrow-root, and sweets;
And found the world, upon the whole,
A realm of jolly treats.
And arrow-root, and sweets;
And found the world, upon the whole,
A realm of jolly treats.
But next there rose an alphabet
To vex and plague its betters;
'T was now as plain as A, B, C,
This was a world of letters.
To vex and plague its betters;
'T was now as plain as A, B, C,
This was a world of letters.
Henceforth life's troubles came and went
Like troops of busy weasels:
Now 't was a world of whooping-cough,
And now a world of measles.
Like troops of busy weasels:
Now 't was a world of whooping-cough,
And now a world of measles.
Then “two times two” and “four and six,”
Conspired to vex my slumbers,
And prove, since figures never lie,
This sphere a world of numbers.
Conspired to vex my slumbers,
And prove, since figures never lie,
This sphere a world of numbers.
So boyhood sped. I learned the power
That early pluck discloses;
And, for a while, this life stood forth
A world of battered noses.
That early pluck discloses;
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A world of battered noses.
Next “Lalla Rookh” and “Rasselas,”
And thoughts that burned on paper;
Hazing; and foot-ball; and “exams;”
The student's midnight taper.
And thoughts that burned on paper;
Hazing; and foot-ball; and “exams;”
The student's midnight taper.
Then came a glance, a dash of pink,
A voice than music sweeter,
A lovely form—“Good world!” I cried,
“There ne'er was aught completer!”
A voice than music sweeter,
A lovely form—“Good world!” I cried,
“There ne'er was aught completer!”
There ne'er was aught so sweet as love—
That gift of wondrous leaven;
It raised the world to Paradise—
Nay, earth itself was heaven!
That gift of wondrous leaven;
It raised the world to Paradise—
Nay, earth itself was heaven!
“Married and settled,” so men said.
The busy years still flew.
This was a world of marketing,
Yet a world of comfort, too.
The busy years still flew.
This was a world of marketing,
Yet a world of comfort, too.
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Money was needed—little shoes,
And little hats and frocks,
And household goods—and so it grew
To be a world of stocks.
And little hats and frocks,
And household goods—and so it grew
To be a world of stocks.
A world of stocks one hour, and next
A world of blessed pleasure—
The home world and the outer world
Divided dross and treasure.
A world of blessed pleasure—
The home world and the outer world
Divided dross and treasure.
But all the while a gladsome pulse
Within my heart was leaping,
Because the Father overhead
His watch and ward was keeping.
Within my heart was leaping,
Because the Father overhead
His watch and ward was keeping.
Trouble and joy, and care and pain,
They filled the measure duly;
Yet that the Lord of all was good
I knew and felt it truly.
They filled the measure duly;
Yet that the Lord of all was good
I knew and felt it truly.
If now and then some injury
Was dealt me by my fellow,
I tried to think the bruisèd heart
Was only getting mellow.
Was dealt me by my fellow,
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Was only getting mellow.
Well, wife and I, still hand in hand,
Are trudging on together;
We find the world more gold than gilt,
More worth than fuss-and-feather.
Are trudging on together;
We find the world more gold than gilt,
More worth than fuss-and-feather.
“This wicked world,” forsooth?—Why, that 's
What puzzles me: to find it
Called wholly wicked, when we know
There 's so much good behind it.
What puzzles me: to find it
Called wholly wicked, when we know
There 's so much good behind it.
If folks would let the world go by,
And just stick close to duty,
Taking life's blessings as they come,
And drinking in earth's beauty,
And just stick close to duty,
Taking life's blessings as they come,
And drinking in earth's beauty,
It seems to me the flag of cant
Would in a trice be furled,
And only wicked lips would call
God's world a wicked world.
Would in a trice be furled,
And only wicked lips would call
God's world a wicked world.
105
SNOW-BOUND.
How did it happen? Well, you see,
Charley called for Mary or me;
Sleighing good, and neither loth—
Only wished he could take us both,
So he said. And grandmother smiled,
Nodding at me: “Dress warmly, child.”
He looked at Moll
As if to say,
“Too bad, but we
Shall ride some day,”
While I, half prompted not to go,
Yet feeling, somehow, forced, you know,
Ran to get ready, blithely humming,
Never dreaming of what was coming.
Charley called for Mary or me;
Sleighing good, and neither loth—
Only wished he could take us both,
So he said. And grandmother smiled,
Nodding at me: “Dress warmly, child.”
He looked at Moll
As if to say,
“Too bad, but we
Shall ride some day,”
While I, half prompted not to go,
Yet feeling, somehow, forced, you know,
Ran to get ready, blithely humming,
Never dreaming of what was coming.
A dear little sleigh and robes—so nice!
And though the air was cold as ice,
I did n't care one bit—not I.
And that horse of Charley's seemed to fly;
While the sleigh-bells' ching-a-ling, clear and sweet,
Kept tune to my heart's bewildered beat,
With their ching-a-ling-ing,
And Charley singing
“What would you do, love?”
Through their ringing.
Everything was so perfect and bright
And sweet and warm—for a winter night—
That—that—in fact, though only sleighing,
I hardly knew what Charley was saying.
And though the air was cold as ice,
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And that horse of Charley's seemed to fly;
While the sleigh-bells' ching-a-ling, clear and sweet,
Kept tune to my heart's bewildered beat,
With their ching-a-ling-ing,
And Charley singing
“What would you do, love?”
Through their ringing.
Everything was so perfect and bright
And sweet and warm—for a winter night—
That—that—in fact, though only sleighing,
I hardly knew what Charley was saying.
Snow-bound? Ah, that is only his joke;
There was n't a storm, and nothing broke,
And we were n't half dead with cold and fear,
Nor buried in drift, as he 'd have it appear.
There was n't a storm, and nothing broke,
And we were n't half dead with cold and fear,
Nor buried in drift, as he 'd have it appear.
It 's only his way of letting you know
Of what befell o'er the crispy snow,
While ching-a-ling-ching
We slid along,
And Charley forgot
To end his song,
And I—well, I was quiet, too,
For where was the use, when Charley knew?
All in a breath the past grew clear,
And life shone forth so dear, so dear!
Of what befell o'er the crispy snow,
While ching-a-ling-ching
We slid along,
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To end his song,
And I—well, I was quiet, too,
For where was the use, when Charley knew?
All in a breath the past grew clear,
And life shone forth so dear, so dear!
“Drifts,” indeed! and “Pity we went!”
You might have guessed what his “snow-bound” meant.
You might have guessed what his “snow-bound” meant.
110
A PROPOSAL BY A MAN OF BUSINESS.
My dear Miss B.: Replying to
Your favor of this date,
Would say, I'm doing well this year,
And here beg leave to state
Your favor of this date,
Would say, I'm doing well this year,
And here beg leave to state
That since rents now are going down
And wedding-fêtes decline,
St. Valentine hath tempted me
To ask you to be mine.
And wedding-fêtes decline,
St. Valentine hath tempted me
To ask you to be mine.
I 've thought this step most squarely out,
And counseled with a friend,
And so I offer you my hand
To hold till life shall end.
And counseled with a friend,
And so I offer you my hand
To hold till life shall end.
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I do not prate of dews and flowers
Or balmy zephyrs sweet,
But here I bring an honest life
And lay it at your feet.
Or balmy zephyrs sweet,
But here I bring an honest life
And lay it at your feet.
Would add, meanwhile, though I admire
And love you as you are,
As Mrs. Jones, my own true wife,
You 'd be more dear by far.
And love you as you are,
As Mrs. Jones, my own true wife,
You 'd be more dear by far.
Then, Emma, shall it be in vain
My heart goes pit-a-pat?
Oh, think what joy 't would be for you
And self to take a flat!
My heart goes pit-a-pat?
Oh, think what joy 't would be for you
And self to take a flat!
Or shall it be a corner house,
Where you can watch and see
Your husband coming up the street—
Yes, coming home to tea!
Where you can watch and see
Your husband coming up the street—
Yes, coming home to tea!
Ah! since this thought occurred to me
I have not even dozed;
So kindly answer soon—for which
You'll find a stamp inclosed.
I have not even dozed;
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You'll find a stamp inclosed.
P. S.
Since writing the above, I find
That note was not from you!
But still I feel myself inclined
To see this matter through:
So, Emma, pray do not postpone,
But settle it, please do, by 'phone.
That note was not from you!
But still I feel myself inclined
To see this matter through:
So, Emma, pray do not postpone,
But settle it, please do, by 'phone.
As per my letter-head you'll see
My number is 4–1–6–3.
My number is 4–1–6–3.
113
MISS FLIP AT THE EXPOSITION.
Oh, Miss Flip of New York City lately went to see the show
That was held in gay St. Louis, this season, as you know;
And the things that damsel saw and heard, the things she learned and felt,
Would fill an anchorite with joy, or heart of Nero melt.
I heard her tell her dearest friend about it all one day,
And I beg to give the story in her own sweet girlish way.
That was held in gay St. Louis, this season, as you know;
And the things that damsel saw and heard, the things she learned and felt,
Would fill an anchorite with joy, or heart of Nero melt.
I heard her tell her dearest friend about it all one day,
And I beg to give the story in her own sweet girlish way.
“I saw, oh, Florence, lots of things! The trip was, oh, so fine!—
I wore my écru suit, my dear, with white-embroidered vine.
The loveliest machinery—so grand, you know; and then
'T was fun to see them working it—those earnest, dirty men.
My cavalier went wild with rage because I watched them so:
These nobby fellows always are so jealous, dear, you know.
The fine-art gallery, they say, is nice as it can be;
But, really, there was such a crowd, I didn 't try to see.
In the Japanese department I bought me such a fan!—
I wonder how they ever learned to make things in Japan.
And, oh! the way I rushed around, on foot, dear, and in chairs,
Was fearful, for in such a place 'most everybody stares.
I didn 't mind, because it 's only every hundred years
Centennials come, and no one cares how just one girl appears
(So uncle said). But one can't help one's feelings, after all,
When your feathers get so limpsy and your sleeves look crushed and small.
But it really is, when all is done, a satisfaction, dear,
To have seen the Exposition, and not seem green and queer.
And then, the silks and flowers, and summer things—oh, my!
They make you wild, because, you see, you always want to buy.
To see them does expand the mind, and give you new ideas:
I'm going to copy me a dress that 's shown by Madame Speers;
I'm going to get a new hat, too, made just like one I saw—
A perfect darling!—just a mass of roses, tulle, and straw!
I saw a real live Turk one day (but didn 't like to look),
All dressed in big red bloomers, like a picture in a book.
You need n't go abroad this year, for all the world is there;
And, really, I do feel as if I 'd been 'most everywhere.
There 's everything on earth to see—such jewelry and lace!
And all the buildings lit at night! It 's just the sweetest place!
We strolled into the restaurants, and had a heavenly time
With Mr. F--- and Harry B---, who really turned out prime.
Such lovely cream! although they charge outrageously, they say—
Which doesn't matter much to girls, as we don't have to pay.
You see the Alps and tropics, too, and every famous spot,
And I went all through “Creation”—though I 'd really rather not.
But oh, how fine the lagoons are!—they 're all shown in the book—
And the buildings are just splendid, though you have n't time to look.
And, do you know, it's not three years since work out there began!
Don't engineers and builders prove how wonderful is man?
Oh, the palaces and places where there was so much to learn!
But, as for that, I passed them all with perfect unconcern—
Because we girls of nowadays—well, you know how we do:
We learn so much we really feel as if we ought n't to.
Papa says it 's the greatest show the world has ever seen,
And he 's glad that we went early while the buildings were so clean.
But poor papa! the bills! the bills! Why, darling, as I live,
Your money just evaporates!—like water through a sieve.
Lord Darnkie made a splendid joke, one day, about the show;
He said—he said—well, I forget just what he said, you know.
But, really, he is droll at times—his views are, oh, so queer!
Once, when I asked him if he sang, he drawled: “I have no ee-ah!”
And Harry said a silly thing—he may have meant it, too!
He said: “You think those bracelets dear? they can't be dear as you!”
These witty men are always saying clever things to girls.
But when I think of all I said, my brain it really whirls.
And oh, those queer, outlandish sights you do see on the Pike,
Where all the people seem to do exactly as they like!
I walked and turned and twisted until I thought I 'd drop!
But now I 've talked you almost deaf, and it is time to stop.
Oh, mercy on us! I must go. But I'm glad I' ve seen the show,
And told you all about it, and the things you ought to know.”
I wore my écru suit, my dear, with white-embroidered vine.
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'T was fun to see them working it—those earnest, dirty men.
My cavalier went wild with rage because I watched them so:
These nobby fellows always are so jealous, dear, you know.
The fine-art gallery, they say, is nice as it can be;
But, really, there was such a crowd, I didn 't try to see.
In the Japanese department I bought me such a fan!—
I wonder how they ever learned to make things in Japan.
And, oh! the way I rushed around, on foot, dear, and in chairs,
Was fearful, for in such a place 'most everybody stares.
I didn 't mind, because it 's only every hundred years
Centennials come, and no one cares how just one girl appears
(So uncle said). But one can't help one's feelings, after all,
When your feathers get so limpsy and your sleeves look crushed and small.
115
To have seen the Exposition, and not seem green and queer.
And then, the silks and flowers, and summer things—oh, my!
They make you wild, because, you see, you always want to buy.
To see them does expand the mind, and give you new ideas:
I'm going to copy me a dress that 's shown by Madame Speers;
I'm going to get a new hat, too, made just like one I saw—
A perfect darling!—just a mass of roses, tulle, and straw!
I saw a real live Turk one day (but didn 't like to look),
All dressed in big red bloomers, like a picture in a book.
You need n't go abroad this year, for all the world is there;
And, really, I do feel as if I 'd been 'most everywhere.
There 's everything on earth to see—such jewelry and lace!
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We strolled into the restaurants, and had a heavenly time
With Mr. F--- and Harry B---, who really turned out prime.
Such lovely cream! although they charge outrageously, they say—
Which doesn't matter much to girls, as we don't have to pay.
You see the Alps and tropics, too, and every famous spot,
And I went all through “Creation”—though I 'd really rather not.
But oh, how fine the lagoons are!—they 're all shown in the book—
And the buildings are just splendid, though you have n't time to look.
And, do you know, it's not three years since work out there began!
Don't engineers and builders prove how wonderful is man?
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But, as for that, I passed them all with perfect unconcern—
Because we girls of nowadays—well, you know how we do:
We learn so much we really feel as if we ought n't to.
Papa says it 's the greatest show the world has ever seen,
And he 's glad that we went early while the buildings were so clean.
But poor papa! the bills! the bills! Why, darling, as I live,
Your money just evaporates!—like water through a sieve.
Lord Darnkie made a splendid joke, one day, about the show;
He said—he said—well, I forget just what he said, you know.
But, really, he is droll at times—his views are, oh, so queer!
Once, when I asked him if he sang, he drawled: “I have no ee-ah!”
118
He said: “You think those bracelets dear? they can't be dear as you!”
These witty men are always saying clever things to girls.
But when I think of all I said, my brain it really whirls.
And oh, those queer, outlandish sights you do see on the Pike,
Where all the people seem to do exactly as they like!
I walked and turned and twisted until I thought I 'd drop!
But now I 've talked you almost deaf, and it is time to stop.
Oh, mercy on us! I must go. But I'm glad I' ve seen the show,
And told you all about it, and the things you ought to know.”
119
A QUANDARY.
Tell my lady she is fair?
That no news is, truly.
Tell her she is sweet and rare?
Pure and lovely past compare?
Will it strike her newly?
That no news is, truly.
Tell her she is sweet and rare?
Pure and lovely past compare?
Will it strike her newly?
No; some other way to woo
Must be mine to win her.
What tho' I am fond and true?
All the world adores her, too—
Such a spell is in her.
Must be mine to win her.
What tho' I am fond and true?
All the world adores her, too—
Such a spell is in her.
Ah, I have 't! I'll stay away,
Though I wander sadly.
Then, to say her gentle “nay,”
She must send for me some day.
And I'll go right gladly.
Though I wander sadly.
Then, to say her gentle “nay,”
She must send for me some day.
And I'll go right gladly.
120
LIFE IN LACONICS.
Given a roof, and a taste for rations,
And you have the key to the “wealth of nations.”
And you have the key to the “wealth of nations.”
Given a boy, a tree, and a hatchet,
And virtue strives in vain to match it.
And virtue strives in vain to match it.
Given a pair, a snake, and an apple,
You make the whole world need a chapel.
You make the whole world need a chapel.
Given “no cards,” broad views, and a hovel,
You have a realistic novel.
You have a realistic novel.
Given symptoms and doctors with potion and pill,
And your heirs will ere long be contesting your will.
And your heirs will ere long be contesting your will.
That good leads to evil there 's no denying:
If it were not for truth there would be no lying.
If it were not for truth there would be no lying.
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“I'm nobody!” should have a hearse;
But then, “I'm somebody!” is worse.
But then, “I'm somebody!” is worse.
“Folks say,” etcetera! Well, they should n't,
And if they knew you well, they would n't.
And if they knew you well, they would n't.
When you coddle your life, all its vigor and grace
Shrink away with the whisper: “We 're in the wrong place.”
Shrink away with the whisper: “We 're in the wrong place.”
“A miss is as good as a mile,” they say.
But I walked two miles and she gave me “nay.”
And the hateful puzzle about all this is,
Two miles did n't turn that Miss into Mrs.
But I walked two miles and she gave me “nay.”
And the hateful puzzle about all this is,
Two miles did n't turn that Miss into Mrs.
| Poems and verses by Mary Mapes Dodge | |