Would you know the kind of maid
Sets my heart a flame-a?
Eyes must be downcast and staid,
Cheeks must flush for shame-a!
She may neither dance nor sing,
But, demure in everything,
Hang her head in modest way
With pouting lips that seem to say,
“Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,
Though I die of shame-a!”
Please you, that’s the kind of maid
Sets my heart a flame-a!
When a maid is bold and gay
With a tongue goes clang-a,
Flaunting it in brave array,
Maiden may go hang-a!
Sunflower gay and hollyhock
Never shall my garden stock;
Mine the blushing rose of May,
With pouting lips that seem to say
“Oh, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,
Though I die for shame-a!”
Please you, that’s the kind of maid
Sets my heart a flame-a!
SPECULATION
Comes a train of little ladies
From scholastic trammels free,
Each a little bit afraid is,
Wondering what the world can be!
Is it but a world of trouble—
Sadness set to song?
Is its beauty but a bubble
Bound to break ere long?
Are its palaces and pleasures
Fantasies that fade?
And the glory of its treasures
Shadow of a shade?
Schoolgirls we, eighteen and under,
From scholastic trammels free,
And we wonder—how we wonder!—
What on earth the world can be!
AH ME!
When maiden loves, she sits and sighs,
She wanders to and fro;
Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes,
And to all questions she replies,
With a sad heigho!
’Tis but a little word—“heigho!”
So soft, ’tis scarcely heard—“heigho!”
An idle breath—
Yet life and death
May hang upon a maid’s “heigho!”
When maiden loves, she mopes apart,
As owl mopes on a tree;
Although she keenly feels the smart,
She cannot tell what ails her heart,
With its sad “Ah me!”
’Tis but a foolish sigh—“Ah me!”
Born but to droop and die—“Ah me!”
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid’s “Ah me!”