Ere long, before a laughing, ruddy flame,
She smiled through tears and shyly told her name;
I led the strayling to her mother’s door,
And in she flew,—I never saw her more.
Yet oftentimes, when Winter scoffs the sun,
She is my bosom’s guest, that timid one;
She steals into my heart and sobbing stands,
A naked doll in her caressing hands;
I see her shiver and I hear her say,
“I am so cold, and I don’t know the way.”
THE UPSET.
ENFORCED pursuit of silver eagles fleet
Gave early haste to my reluctant feet,
And so it chanced I hurried—I and Care—
At sunrise down a city thoroughfare;
But by the grace of some directing fay
I met a sight that gladdened me all day.
I saw a beer-plump Saxon—Bacchus’ son—
His red, round face the symbol of slow fun;
Unconscious he of all ’twixt sky and earth
Except one soul-engrossing cause of mirth:
He dragged a painted sled, and, perched thereon,
Sat snug a three-years’ maiden, bright as dawn,
And happy as the sparrows chirping round,
Crumb-hunting near her on the snowy ground.
A sudden turn! a laughing cry, and lo!
The sled upsets, and Mädchen prints the snow.
She laughs; I laugh; loud ha-ha’s Bacchus’ son;—
Then gravely he,—“By yolly! dot vas fun.”
THE SCHOOL GIRL.
FROM some sweet home the morning train
Brings to the city,
Five days a week, in sun or rain,
Returning like a song’s refrain,
A school girl pretty.
A violet’s unaffected grace
Is dainty miss’s,
Yet, in her shy, expressive face,
The touch of urban arts I trace,
And artifices.
No one but she and Heaven knows
Of what she’s thinking;
It may be either books or beaux,
Fine scholarship or stylish clothes,
Per cents or prinking.
How happy must the household be
This morn who kissed her;
Not every one can make so free;
Who sees her, inly wishes she
Were his own sister.
How favored is the book she cons,
The slate she uses,
The hat she lightly doffs and dons,
The orient sunshade that she owns,
The desk she chooses.