Classic and Contemporary Poetry
POLLY CORTELYOU, by ARTHUR GUITERMAN Poet's Biography First Line: Pretty polly cortelyou, / mistress of the ...' Last Line: Woo the farmer lasses! Subject(s): Farm Life; Love; New York City - Colonial Period; Agriculture; Farmers | ||||||||
"PRETTY Polly Cortelyou, Mistress of the dairy, Born a dainty little shrew, Sprightly and contrary, "Sweet of manner, neat in dress, Buxom little charmer; Who would have such loveliness Wasted on a farmer!" Built when only moor and wood Edged the rustic byway, Now her father's bouwerie stood Fronting on the highway Where, in silken revelry, Plumes and powdered tresses, Passed Manhattan's chivalry, Swept their hearts' princesses. Rosy Polly Cortelyou Kept the dasher turning, Panting as the butter grew Stiffer with her churning; Frowning still on Harry Gray, Merry spark of fashion, Sipping buttermilk and whey Just to cool his passion. "Go!" said she, "thou face of brass; Save thy coat of scarlet! How should e'er a farmer lass Wed a lazy varlet!" "Cruel Polly! leave the churn! Think me not a rake, dear. Sure," the gallant said, "I'd turn Shepherd for your sake, dear. "Nay, you doubt me? Can you ask Proof I love you madly? Set me any servile task; Faith, I'll do it gladly." "Wilt thou then," the maiden spoke, "Bear, till I enlarge thee, Milking-pails and dairy yoke Wheresoe'er I charge thee?" "Sweet, I'd bear them," vowed the youth, "Just to do thy pleasure, Clear to Spain! -- and back, forsooth, Heaping full of treasure." Round his neck the dimpling miss Bound the yoke, to tame him. (If he tried to snatch a kiss, Truly, do you blame him?) Laughing at his helpless plight, Led him from the dairy (So a Jack-o'-lantern sprite, So an antic fairy, Threading bog or muddy shore, Draws a luckless mortal), Through the house, toward the door, Opened wide the portal. Then, that wicked little cheat, Laughing still, to blind him, Thrust him headlong to the street, Snapped the lock behind him. All Manhattan's brave array Stopped and stared in wonder. All Manhattan's gallants gay Split their sides asunder. There he stood in silken coat, Rapier silver-hilted, Snowy scarf about his throat, Beaver bravely tilted, Harry Gray, the ballroom's pride, Yoke across his shoulders, Brimming pails on either side, Joy of all beholders. Heartless Polly shrieked with mirth, Screened behind the casement. Open! open! kindly earth! Cover his abasement! Each of twenty youths, they say, Solemn as a major, Took his oath that Harry Gray Did it on a wager. Eight-and-forty ladies fair (Can a man deceive them?) Dropped their eyes and heard them swear -- Didn't quite believe them. Gallants, heed! 'Twere well ye should, Be they ne'er so loving, Chain your hearts; to field and wood Send them not a-roving. Woman-craft in subtle toys All your wit surpasses. Let the canny country boys Woo the farmer lasses! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KICKING THE LEAVES by DONALD HALL THE FARMER'S BOY: WINTER by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD THE FARMER'S BOY: SPRING by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD THE FARMER'S BOY: SUMMER by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD THE FARMER'S BOY: AUTUMN by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD |
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