Classic Poem

GERALDINE AND I

W E have loitered and laughed in the flowery croft,
— — We have met under wintry skies;
Her voice is the dearest voice, and soft
— — Is the light in her wistful eyes;
It is bliss in the silent woods, among
— — Gay crowds, or in any place,
To mould her mind, to gaze in her young
Confiding face.

For ever may roses divinely blow,
— — And wine-dark pansies charm
By that prim box path where I felt the glow
— — Of her dimpled, trusting arm,
And the sweep of her silk as she turned and smiled
— — A smile as pure as her pearls;
The breeze was in love with the darling Child,
And coaxed her curls.

She showed me her ferns and woodbine sprays,
— — Foxglove and jasmine stars,
A mist of blue in the beds, a blaze
— — Of red in the celadon jars:
And velvety bees in convolvulus bells,
— — And roses of bountiful Spring.
But I said — " Though roses and bees have spells,
They have thorn, and sting. "

She showed me ripe peaches behind a net
— — As fine as her veil, and fat
Goldfish a-gape, who lazily met
— — For her crumbs — I grudged them that!
A squirrel, some rabbits with long lop ears,
— — And guinea-pigs, tortoise-shell — wee;
And I told her that eloquent truth inheres
In all we see.

I lifted her doe by its lops, quoth I,
— — " Even here deep meaning lies, —
Why have squirrels these ample tails, and why
— — Have rabbits these prominent eyes? "
She smiled and said, as she twirled her veil,
— — " For some nice little cause, no doubt —
If you lift a guinea-pig up by the tail
His eyes drop out! "