LAZY lady, languid loiterer, Lying late in "Lower 9," You are apt to curse with goitre, or Something worse, this neck of mine, Rubbering, rubbering, as I do, Here across the aisle from you. We, your curious fellow-travelers, Left our berths long hours ago; And we sit here -- caustic cavilers -- Wondering why you are so slow. Now and then the porter, too, Casts an ebon frown at you. . . . . . One thing surely very certain is -- Aye! as plain as any pike -- That behind that dark green curtain is Some one very lady-like. Still I'm prophesying through Nothing but that dainty shoe. Lazy lady! Won't you hurry now? Time is flying on to noon. It's for me to start to worry now; We'll be at my station soon, And before my journey's through I would like a glimpse at you. . . . . . Stirring now? Too late! Forever, ma'am, Faceless, formless unto me! Better so, perhaps, for never, ma'am, Could you measure up to be Half so lovely to the view, Half the queen I fancy you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEMORIAL DAY by WILLIAM E. BROOKS THE LATTER DAY by THOMAS HASTINGS GREENWOOD CEMETERY by CRAMMOND KENNEDY THE CRADLE SONG OF THE POOR by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER THE WAKE OF THE KING OF SPAIN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |