MuguetPublished by Susan on 07/29/2003 (3385 reads)
'Twas on the sacred First of May
I made a sentimental sally
To buy myself a slender spray
Of pearly lily of the valley;
And setting it beside my bed,
Dream back the smile of one now dead.
But when I asked how much a spray?
The figure seemed so astronomic
I rather fear that my dismay
Must have appeared a little comic.
The price, the shopgirl gravely said,
Alas! was fifteen francs a head.
However, I said: "Give me three,
And wrap them in a silver paper,
And I will take them home with me,
And light an 'in memoriam' taper,
To one whose smile so heaven bright,
Was wont to make my darkness light."
Then lo! I saw beside me stand
A women shabby, old and grey,
Who pointed with a trembling hand
And shyly asked: "How much are they?"
But when I told her, sadly said:
"I'll save my francs for milk and bread."
"Yet I've a daughter just sixteen,
Long sick abed and oh so sad.
I thought - well, how they would have been
A gift, maybe, to make her glad . . ."
And then I saw her eyes caress
My blossoms with such wistfulness.
I gave them: sought my garret bare,
Knowing that she whom I had loved,
Although no blooms I bought her there,
Would have so tenderly approved . . .
And in the dark I lay awhile,
Seeing again her radiant smile.
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