University of Virginia Library

AN INCIDENT.

Nut-brown Bridget
Woke one dawn with dewy eyes
Glistening like the opening skies,
In a fever and a fidget.
Had not Ethel,
Daughter of the Minister
Who was want to roar in Bethel,
She that played the dulcimer
In the chapel,
Asked her on that summer day
Just to steal with her away
And enjoy a little bite
(Which would soil no garment white)
Of the fair forbidden apple?
Birds were calling,
Petals falling
From the roses pink and red
In the garden at the gate,
As she crowned her pretty head
With a hat as fit as fate.
But then surely
And demurely,
Like a kitten with a mouse,
Off she started
Summer-hearted
From the house;
With the glory of her errand
Played with, patted, as a boy
Makes in class a serious toy
Of some unfamiliar gerund.
At the corner
Ethel clothed in pearly gray,
Tall, dark-eyed, dark-haired, and prim
With the meekness of a mourner
Met her like a muffled hymn,
Which has sadly gone astray;
So subdued her Sabbath voice,
Which yet hardly dared rejoice.
Both soon bubbled up with glee,
And ran over
Like a vessel
Filled beyond its fullest measure,
As they felt themselves so free,
Passing fields of crimson clover
Where the rippling wind would wrestle
With the blossoms at their feet,
And remove the choicest treasure
Honeyed by reposing sweet.
Then they came
To the iron road and carriage
Ready with the steed of flame,
As if going to their marriage;
Laughing, talking, full of light—
Till the crash and cruel night.