 | Our Holiday Among The Hills |  |
A LOVE IDYL.
Scene—An Orchard.
Idly roving without aim
Up the orchard path he came,
When, from out a corner cosy,
Stept and stopt him, blushing rosy,
Rosy with her face aflame!
(He speaks—)
Up the orchard path he came,
When, from out a corner cosy,
Stept and stopt him, blushing rosy,
Rosy with her face aflame!
Rosy! You deserve your name!
Cheek and chin, and brow and bosy,
—All are of one colour, rosy!
(A Pause. Then—)
Cheek and chin, and brow and bosy,
—All are of one colour, rosy!
Is it shyness? . . . Is it shame? . . .
Shall I bless you? . . . Shall I blame? . . .
Ear and eyelid, neck and nosy!
—Was it cherry-brandy, Rosy? . . .
Is't a lover?
(A longer pause. No answer. Then—)
Shall I bless you? . . . Shall I blame? . . .
Ear and eyelid, neck and nosy!
—Was it cherry-brandy, Rosy? . . .
Is't a lover?
Here's a game!
Well, I'll stalk him, wild or tame.
No! you shall not stop me, Rosy!
—Ah! he's bolted; yonder goes he!
Well, I'll stalk him, wild or tame.
No! you shall not stop me, Rosy!
—Ah! he's bolted; yonder goes he!
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I should know that agile frame . . .
Rosy! won't you tell his name?
Come, you'd better!
(She whispers a name. Then he—)
Rosy! won't you tell his name?
Come, you'd better!
Good for Rosy!
Why, he's King of Trumps, is Josey!
Why, he's King of Trumps, is Josey!
| Our Holiday Among The Hills | |