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Orellana and Other Poems

By J. Logie Robertson

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OUR MARY: HER FATE.
  
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208

OUR MARY: HER FATE.

This was Mary twenty years ago—
Mary then was four from twenty,
Mary then was gimp and genty,
Mary then had beaux a-plenty,
Rosy cheeks and brow of snow;
Like a fairy
Was our Mary
Twenty years ago.
This was Mary nineteen years ago—
Mary then was meek and modest,
Neatly ankled, shapely bodiced,
By the village poets goddessed,

209

Classed with Dame Demeter's Oe;
Like an airy
Sylph was Mary
Nineteen years ago.
This was Mary eighteen years ago—
Mary properly deported,
Chastely with her sisters sported,
Would not kiss though she was courted,
Coaxed by many a downy beau;
Wise and wary
Was our Mary
Eighteen years ago.
This was Mary seventeen years ago—
When the lads their longing uttered
Nothing in her bosom fluttered,
And she neither stayed nor stuttered
When she simply said them No!
—Feeling nary
Had our Mary
Seventeen years ago!

210

This was Mary sixteen years ago—
When the men their custom carried
Off to other marts, and married,
Though it tested those that tarried,
Mary her ain gate would go;
Veer nor vary
Would our Mary
Sixteen years ago.
This was Mary fifteen years ago—
It was at a Christmas party
That the spinsters at écarté
Leapt up, startled by a hearty
Smack beneath the misletoe;
“Did he?—dare he?”
Yes!” said Mary
Fifteen years ago!