'SIXPENCE a week,' says the girl to her lover, 'Aunt used to bring me, for she could confide In me alone, she vowed. 'Twas to cover The cost of her headstone when she died. And that was a year ago last June; I've not yet fixed it. But I must soon.' 'And where is the money now, my dear?' 'O, snug in my purse ... Aunt was so slow In saving it - eighty weeks, or near.' ... 'Let's spend it,' he hints. 'For she won't know There's a dance to-night at the Load of Hay.' She passively nods. And they go that way. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WILLOW POEM by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE LAST WISH by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE HARP by RALPH WALDO EMERSON YOUR MISSION by ELLEN M. HUNTINGTON GATES THE COUNTY OF MAYO by THOMAS LAVELLE |