 | Poems and verses by Mary Mapes Dodge |  |
133
II.
So still it was—so still with quiet heat,
The blossom lately from the brooklet quaffing
Ceased its brisk dipping and sly telegraphing,
And scorned the blossom opposite to greet.
The very grass stood breathless at our feet;
When, suddenly, our weighty silence chaffing,
The leaves around broke out in muffled laughing,
And something stirred the fickle Marguerite!
The blossom lately from the brooklet quaffing
Ceased its brisk dipping and sly telegraphing,
And scorned the blossom opposite to greet.
The very grass stood breathless at our feet;
When, suddenly, our weighty silence chaffing,
The leaves around broke out in muffled laughing,
And something stirred the fickle Marguerite!
“Your flower!” I cried.—“Ah, now it bends quite over!”
“Oho!” he answered—“see your nodding clover!”
In truth, those silly blossoms fluttered so,
I really knew not if to stay or go.—
And so it happened that the twilight found me
Still resting there,—and Charlie's arm around me.
“Oho!” he answered—“see your nodding clover!”
In truth, those silly blossoms fluttered so,
I really knew not if to stay or go.—
And so it happened that the twilight found me
Still resting there,—and Charlie's arm around me.
| Poems and verses by Mary Mapes Dodge | |