The town thought me a model woman With my girlish hair tumbling down my brow. I kept my secret well And even to-day Nobody realizes the truth That at various times in fits of temper I burned the orphan asylum, Murdered my father because I didn't like The smell of his pipe, And forged his will in my favor; People didn't understand What a horrid thing I was when I got started. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARTING AT MORNING by ROBERT BROWNING HOME THOUGHTS FROM FRANCE by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 51. WILLOWWOOD (3) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI CYNTHIA SPORTING by PHILIP AYRES AN ANCIENT GODDESS; IN TWO PICTURES by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A WOMAN'S SONNETS: 3 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |