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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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First Line: Before you came I got the papers read
Last Line: And I'd be that much worse off than I am.


I

Before you came I got the papers read
So I could talk to you of diplomats,
And I could say just what the papers said.
And then you asked about the tiger cats,
And said you liked my waving mane of hair,
And said the old town had not changed a bit.
It's nice and restful for you, isn't it?
I know just how Miss Mary in her chair
Feels when folks call -- and now you've gone again.
If you lived here and I lived over there
I would come back from dealing with great men
To see you and the "dear old town" again,
But I'd not talk to you of tiger cats!

II

I hate to hear the others praise you so,
And ask me if I noticed your hair curled,
And how, when you got mad, your eyes would glow.
They'll never find out what you meant to me.
I wish they hated you, and I could be
Your only single friend in all the world.

III

I dreamed last night an angel pushed
With both hands on the apple tree
Under my window, till he crushed
The black bark, and the rings of wood
Split at his touch, and there you stood
Inside; your eyes danced merrily
As you reached out your arms to me.
But now by day the tree looks just the same
As it did before you came.

IV

I wish I'd never met you, never seen
That look of yours, as if you got some fun
Out of the frozen mountains and the sun.
Whatever I do, it comes in between.
Well, look then, keep on looking, and much good
You'll get from it! I'm going to bring the wood
And then wash up the dishes, and then clean
The garbage pail, and scrub down every floor
And whisk the dust specks out of every room
Of this old tomb, and polish the front door,
Mix up the batter -- the bought bread gets stale --
And look inside the oven door to see
If what I put in puffs sufficiently,
Ready for lunch; and after lunch I'll mend
Torn clothes, then walk down-town and get the mail,
Cook dinner, and perhaps at night I'll go
To prayer-meeting, or to the movie-show --
I've that much choice at least for the day's end.
What is the use of having you in sight
When nothing else will ever change a mite?

V

If it were land between us I'd not be
Discouraged. If I never had the fare
Still I could always walk and find you there.
But now -- how could I ever cross the sea?
Green water it is, mile and mile and mile.
The boats keep moving all day steadily;
All day, all night, the people wake and sleep,
Get up and go to bed, and the boats keep
Moving, just on green water, all the while.
I'll never earn enough to come to you.
I try to make my thought rise up and fly
Over the sea to look at what you do.
It flies a little way through winter sky
And then green water closes endlessly
Around it, and it sinks too deep for memory. . . .
You might as well be dead for all of me.

VI

I had more sense than you had, anyway,
When we stood laughing at the butting lamb,
And when we let the pail down in the spring,
And when we raced beside the beaver dam.
I'm glad I never heard your whispering,
I'm glad I never let you play with me
And set the neighbors' tongues a-gossiping.
You'd be as distant as you are today,
And I'd be that much worse off than I am.





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