 | Poems and verses by Mary Mapes Dodge |  |
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.
| Poems and verses by Mary Mapes Dodge | |