Blue! I cried, ’tis a serious thing,
System all out of kilter!
But Adam laughed when he saw me bring,
Herbs I had gathered late in the spring,
To brew into a philter.
I tell you it was a big surprise
When I got a look at her.
Blue, there was nothing blue but her eyes,
They were as blue as the summer skies,
Adam laughed,—but no matter.
She hadn’t been there many weeks
When I began to worry.
A girl should have roses in her cheeks,
Should sing, and laugh sometimes when she speaks,
And not be sad and sorry.
I knew what was wrong, and told her so,
Studyin’, and contrivin’
Over things she had no call to know,
An’ quite neglectin’ the life an’ glow
That keep the soul a-thrivin’.
She had books on science, an’ books on art,
An’ books on things still higher,
Wonderful things that gave you a start,
But not a line, or a word, on the heart
Full of its vain desire.
Well, she’d been there a month—maybe more,
’Twas dreadful stormy weather,
She’d just been telling me o’er and o’er
Quaint little stories she’d told before
As we sat there together.
When Martha came showin’ in young Blaine,
(Most as tall as our ceilin,’
Such a splendid fellow, good and plain,
With no great beauty to make him vain,
But lots of sense an’ feelin.’)
I introduced him all right I know—
I like him—so does Adam,
But Minerva’s face went white as snow,
And he said, bowing his head, just so—
“We’ve met, have we not, madam?”
A nice romance right under my nose,
I watched it growin’, growin,’
Along through the weeks of frosts and snows
(Oh, I wasn’t blind you may suppose)
And bitter north wind blowin’.
For a man from Boston came along,
(Such an elegant fellow)
Played the guitar, wore his hair quite long,
Talked to Minerva of art and song
In tones so soft an’ mellow.