'T WAS after a game of tennis; My service had won the set, And, in merry congratulation, Our hands met over the net. I said, half-jesting, half-earnest, "When Jacob so long ago Served fourteen years for a wife, he won in the end, you know; Now, how many years of service would you ask from the man you'd wed?" Though the glance of her eyes belied her, "Fifteen -- love," was what she said. A trifle piqued at her answer, I said, "He would then be old, And your love for the faithful server would perchance have grown cold; Pray tell me what age would suit you in the man you would care to wed?" Though the glance of her eyes belied her, "Thirty -- love," was what she said. "You speak as though you'd decided to marry a man of that age, But your eyes tell a different story, in spite of their look so sage; Now, how many men of that age have you seen whom you'd care to wed?" Though the glance of her eyes belied her, "Forty -- love," was what she said. Half in anger I turned to leave her; but she was a true coquette, And e'er I was out of hearing a whisper came from the net: "Don't you know, you silly fellow, that you are the man I'd wed, And all that I've said was only 'Game -- love,'" she laughingly said. 'T was after a game of tennis; My service had won the set, And, in reconciliation, Our lips met over the net. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIVALS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON COMPLAINT by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE LITTLE BLACK-EYED REBEL by WILLIAM MCKENDREE CARLETON RESOLUTION OF A POETICAL QUESTION CONCERNING FOUR RURAL SISTERS: 2 by CHARLES COTTON SNAKES, MONGOOSES, SNAKE-CHARMERS, AND THE LIKE by MARIANNE MOORE OUR LEFT' by FRANCIS ORRERY TICKNOR TO -- OCCASIONED BY HIS POEM ON THE SUN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |