 | Poems |  |
A LAMENT.
When Lucy was a baby
With rosy kicks and crows,
O much too hard, it may be,
She'd pull my hair and nose;
Then I'd objections to it,
To give her up, I'd vow;
Now how I wish she'd do it!
O, if she'd do it now!
But she's no more a baby;
All gone are kicks and crows,
And nevermore, it may be,
She'll pat my hair and nose.
With rosy kicks and crows,
O much too hard, it may be,
She'd pull my hair and nose;
Then I'd objections to it,
To give her up, I'd vow;
374
O, if she'd do it now!
But she's no more a baby;
All gone are kicks and crows,
And nevermore, it may be,
She'll pat my hair and nose.
When Lucy, rather older,
Grew into pattering shoes,
She'd toddle to me, bolder,
For kisses I'd refuse;
I'd kisses then refuse to
Her lifted mouth, I vow;
O just as Lucy used to,
I wish she'd kiss me now!
But stateliest of misses,
No more my lips she'll woo;
No more she'll come for kisses,
As once she used to do.
Grew into pattering shoes,
She'd toddle to me, bolder,
For kisses I'd refuse;
I'd kisses then refuse to
Her lifted mouth, I vow;
O just as Lucy used to,
I wish she'd kiss me now!
But stateliest of misses,
No more my lips she'll woo;
No more she'll come for kisses,
As once she used to do.
When Lucy, rather nearer
Her teens, at Christmas came
From school, I seemed but dearer,
We romped and played the same.
At blindman's-buff, she caught me;
She'd catch but me, I vow;
To waltz and polk she taught me;
I wish she'd teach me now!
But, coldest now of misses,
A smile it's hard to gain;
For romps and games and kisses,
I long may sigh in vain.
Her teens, at Christmas came
From school, I seemed but dearer,
We romped and played the same.
At blindman's-buff, she caught me;
She'd catch but me, I vow;
To waltz and polk she taught me;
I wish she'd teach me now!
But, coldest now of misses,
A smile it's hard to gain;
For romps and games and kisses,
I long may sigh in vain.
Ah, what a girl she's grown to!
And, if the truth were told,
She'd blush to have to own to
Her love for me of old;
Yet she's as fond, I know it;
I see it still somehow;
But, as she used to show it,
I wish she'd show it now!
Almost the perfect woman,
How pleasant it would be,
Were she not so inhuman,
But as she was to me!
And, if the truth were told,
She'd blush to have to own to
Her love for me of old;
Yet she's as fond, I know it;
I see it still somehow;
But, as she used to show it,
I wish she'd show it now!
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How pleasant it would be,
Were she not so inhuman,
But as she was to me!
O cousin Lucy, cousin,
Still by my heart I'm told,
Though lovers you've a dozen,
I'm all I was of old.
Love used to come unbidden
When you were small, somehow;
It then would not be hidden;
Why will you hide it now?
It's teasing, coz, you would be,
But O, how I'd prefer,
You, puss, that now you could be
All, sweet one, once you were!
Still by my heart I'm told,
Though lovers you've a dozen,
I'm all I was of old.
Love used to come unbidden
When you were small, somehow;
It then would not be hidden;
Why will you hide it now?
It's teasing, coz, you would be,
But O, how I'd prefer,
You, puss, that now you could be
All, sweet one, once you were!
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