THINGS has come to a pretty pass The whole wide country over, When every married woman has To have a friend or lover; It ain't the way that I was raised, And I hain't no desire To have some feller pokin' round Instead of my Josiar. I never kin forget the day That we went out a walkin', An' sot down on the river-bank, An' kep' on hours a talkin'; He twisted up my apron-string An' folded it together, An' said he thought for harvest time 'T was cur'us kind o' weather. The sun went down as we sot there -- Josiar seemed uneasy; An' mother she began to call: "Looweezy, oh, Looweezy!" An' then Josiar spoke right up, As I was just a startin', An' said, "Looweezy! what's the use Of us two ever partin'?" It kind o' took me by surprise, An' yet I knew 't was comin'; I'd heard it all the summer long In every wild bee's hummin'; I'd studied out the way I'd act, -- But law! I couldn't do it; I meant to hide my love from him, But seems as if he knew it. An' lookin' down into my eyes He must have seen the fire, -- An' ever since that hour I've loved An' worshipped my Josiar. I can't tell what the women mean Who let men fool around 'em, Believin' all the nonsense that They only say to sound 'em; I know, for one, I've never seen The man that I'd admire To have a hangin' after me Instead of my Josiar. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO SPRING by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE BUSY HEART by RUPERT BROOKE TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE THIRD DAY: AZRAEL by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ON A CHILD SLEEPING IN CYNTHIA'S LAP by PHILIP AYRES IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: THE COURT OF PENANCE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE INDIAN DANCER by ANNA TILLMAN BOYD CLOD OF THE EARTH by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |