WE children every morn would wait For Catharine, at the garden gate; Behind school-time, her sunny hair Would melt the master's frown of care, What time his hand but threatened pain, Shaking aloft his awful cane; So here one summer's morn we wait For Catharine at the garden gate. To Dave I say -- "There's sure to be Some coral isle unknown at sea, And -- if I see it first -- 'tis mine! But I'll give it to Catharine." "When she grows up," says Dave to me, "Some ruler in a far countree, Where every voice but his is dumb, Owner of pearls, and gold, and gum, Will build for her a shining throne, Higher than his, and near his own; And he, who would not list before, Will listen to Catharine, and adore Her face and form; and," Dave went on -- When came a man there pale and wan, Whose face was dark and wet though kind, He, coming there, seemed like a wind Whose breath is rain, yet will not stop To give the parched flowers a drop: "Go, children, to your school," he said -- "And tell the master Catharine's dead." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INSPIRATION by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1822-1882) TO - (4) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH DEATH AT DAYBREAK by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH SPRING THOUGHTS by FLORENCE E. BALDWIN WRITTEN ON A MARBLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SPRING'S IMMORTALITY by H. T. MACKENZIE BELL SECTION GANG: MORNING by NORMAN BOLKER |