Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TRICKSEY'S RING, by ALICE CARY


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TRICKSEY'S RING, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: O what a day it was to us
Last Line: And so he had them both!
Subject(s): Rings; Courtship


O WHAT a day it was to us, --
My wits were upside down,
When cousin Joseph Nicholas
Came visiting from town!

His curls they were so smooth and bright,
His frills they were so fine,
I thought perhaps the stars that night
Would be ashamed to shine.

But when the dews had touched the grass,
They came out, large and small,
As if our cousin Nicholas
Had not been there at all!

Our old house never seemed to me
So poor and mean a thing
As then, and just because that he
Was come a-visiting!

I never thought the sun prolonged
His light a single whit
Too much, till then, nor thought he wronged
My face, by kissing it.

But now I sought to pull my dress
Of faded homespun down,
Because my cousin Nicholas
Would see my feet were brown.

The butterflies -- bright airy things --
From off the lilac buds
I scared, for having on their wings
The shadows of the woods.

I thought my straight and jet black hair
Was almost a disgrace,
Since Joseph Nicholas had fair
Smooth curls about his face.

I wished our rosy window sprays
Were laces, dropping down,
That he might think we knew the ways
Of rich folks in the town.

I wished the twittering swallow had
A finer tune to sing,
Since such a stylish city lad
Was come a-visiting.

I wished the hedges, as they swayed,
Were each a solid wall,
And that our grassy lane were made
A market street withal.

I wished the drooping heads of rye,
Set full of silver dews,
Were silken tassels all to tie
The ribbons of his shoes!

And when, by homely household slight,
They called me Tricksey True,
I thought my cheeks would blaze, in spite
Of all that I could do.

Tricksey! -- that name would surely be
A shock to ears polite;
In short I thought that nothing we
Could say or do was right.

For injured pride I could have wept,
Until my heart and I
Fell musing how my mother kept
So equable and high.

She did not cast her eyelids down,
Ashamed of being poor;
To her a gay young man from town,
Was no discomfiture.

She reverenced honor's sacred laws
As much, aye more than he,
And was not put about because
He had more gold than she;

But held her house beneath a hand
As steady and serene,
As though it were a palace, and
As though she were a queen.

And when she set our silver cup
Upon the cloth of snow,
For Nicholas, I lifted up
My timid eyes, I know;

And saw a ring, as needs I must,
Upon his finger shine;
O how I longed to have it just
A minute upon mine!

I thought of fairy folk that led
Their lives in sylvan shades,
And brought fine things, as I had read,
To little rustic maids.

And so I mused within my heart,
How I would search about
The fields and woodlands, for my part,
Till I should spy them out.

And so when down the western sky
The sun had dropped at last,
Right softly and right cunningly
From out the house I passed.

It was as if awake I dreamed,
All Nature was so sweet
The small round dandelions seemed
Like stars beneath my feet.

Fresh greenness as I went along
The grass did seem to take,
And birds beyond the time of song
Kept singing for my sake.

The dew o'erran the lily's cup,
The ground-moss shone so well,
That if the sky were down or up,
Was hard for me to tell.

I never felt my heart to sit
So lightly on its throne;
Ah, who knew what would come of it,
With fairy folk alone!

An hour, -- another hour went by,
All harmless arts I tried,
And tried in vain, and wearily
My hopes within me died.

No tent of moonshine, and no ring
Of dancers could I find, --
The fairy rich folk and their king
For once would be unkind!

My spirit, nameless fear oppressed;
My courage went adrift,
As all out of the low dark west
The clouds began to lift.

I lost my way within the wood, --
The path I could not guess,
When, Heaven be praised, before me stood
My cousin Nicholas!

Right tenderly within his arm
My shrinking hand he drew;
He spoke so low, "these damps will harm
My little Tricksey True."

I know not how it was: my shame
In new delight was drowned;
His accent gave my rustic name
Almost a royal sound.

He bent his cheek against my face, --
He whispered in my ear,
"Why came you to this dismal place?
Tell me, my little dear!"

Betwixt the boughs that o'er us hung
The light began to fall;
His praises loosed my silent tongue, --
At last I told him all.

I felt his lips my forehead touch;
I shook and could not stand;
The ring I coveted so much
Was shining on my hand!

We talked about the little elves
And fairies of the grove,
And then we talked about ourselves,
And then we talked of love.

'T was at the ending of the lane, --
The garden yet to pass,
I offered back his ring again
To my good Nicholas.

"Dear Tricksey, don't you understand,
You foolish little thing,"
He said, "that I must have the hand,
As well as have the ring?"

"To-night -- just now! I pray you wait!
The hand is little worth!"
"Nay darling -- now! we're at the gate!"
And so he had them both!





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net