Trees, and Other Poems

Servant Girl and Grocer's Boy

     Her lips' remark was:  "Oh, you kid!"
     Her soul spoke thus (I know it did):

     "O king of realms of endless joy,
     My own, my golden grocer's boy,

     I am a princess forced to dwell
     Within a lonely kitchen cell,

     While you go dashing through the land
     With loveliness on every hand.

     Your whistle strikes my eager ears
     Like music of the choiring spheres.

     The mighty earth grows faint and reels
     Beneath your thundering wagon wheels.

     How keenly, perilously sweet
     To cling upon that swaying seat!

     How happy she who by your side
     May share the splendors of that ride!

     Ah, if you will not take my hand
     And bear me off across the land,

     Then, traveller from Arcady,
     Remain awhile and comfort me.

     What other maiden can you find
     So young and delicate and kind?"

     Her lips' remark was:  "Oh, you kid!"
     Her soul spoke thus (I know it did).