Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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LIL. |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
LIL.
Look at butterfly Lil,
Never staid, never still,
Here and there like a vision of lightning
And fun,
In the sun
Or the shadow, yet equally bright'ning
The beauties of each
With her frolicsome reach!
She is fairest of fair things and shamefully fickle,
In love with herself and with any kind boy
Who provides her a toy—
With a tongue like a sickle.
Never staid, never still,
Here and there like a vision of lightning
And fun,
In the sun
Or the shadow, yet equally bright'ning
The beauties of each
With her frolicsome reach!
She is fairest of fair things and shamefully fickle,
In love with herself and with any kind boy
Who provides her a toy—
With a tongue like a sickle.
Look at butterfly Lil
With her volatile will,
Always glad of new choices and changes—
Though sick;
And the stick
Even opens to her happy ranges!
She welcomes a blow,
Just because of the glow
And the exquisite sense of relief that comes after;
She's good grit and seasoned by weather and lack,
And she takes the worst whack
With the medicine of laughter.
With her volatile will,
Always glad of new choices and changes—
Though sick;
And the stick
Even opens to her happy ranges!
477
Just because of the glow
And the exquisite sense of relief that comes after;
She's good grit and seasoned by weather and lack,
And she takes the worst whack
With the medicine of laughter.
Look at butterfly Lil,
In the heaviest ill
With a snap of her bold grimy fingers
At pain,
Or the rain
And the cold, or the worry that lingers!
And, failing her food,
No less merry her mood;
Who's the worse for a trifle like losing a dinner,
When mischief remains with its riches and store?
So she troubles no more,
And does not grow the thinner.
In the heaviest ill
With a snap of her bold grimy fingers
At pain,
Or the rain
And the cold, or the worry that lingers!
And, failing her food,
No less merry her mood;
Who's the worse for a trifle like losing a dinner,
When mischief remains with its riches and store?
So she troubles no more,
And does not grow the thinner.
Look at butterfly Lil,
In the dolorous mill
Of her lot, that looks fair but in fiction
And song,
Waxing strong
And more bright with the blasts of affliction!
To the backbone she's game,
Ever pert and the same,
Though a child with a hardness and wit beyond guessing;
A doubtful companion—as in the wrong stall,
And a torment to all
But yet somebody's blessing.
In the dolorous mill
Of her lot, that looks fair but in fiction
And song,
Waxing strong
And more bright with the blasts of affliction!
To the backbone she's game,
Ever pert and the same,
Though a child with a hardness and wit beyond guessing;
A doubtful companion—as in the wrong stall,
And a torment to all
But yet somebody's blessing.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |