Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE QUAKER LADY, by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL Poet's Biography First Line: Mid drab and gray of moldered leaves Last Line: Their quaint obeisance made. Subject(s): Friends, Religious Society Of; Women; Quakers | ||||||||
'MID drab and gray of moldered leaves, The spoil of last October, I see the Quaker lady stand In dainty garb and sober. No speech has she for praise or prayer, No blushes, as I claim To know what gentle whisper gave Her prettiness a name. The wizard stillness of the hour My fancy aids: again Return the days of hoop and hood And tranquil William Penn. I see a maid amid the wood Demurely calm and meek, Or troubled by the mob of curls That riots on her cheek. Her eyes are blue, her cheeks are red, Gay colors for a Friend, And Nature with her mocking rouge Stands by a blush to lend. The gown that holds her rosy grace Is truly of the oddest; And wildly leaps her tender heart Beneath the kerchief modest. It must have been the poet Love Who, while she slyly listened, Divined the maiden in the flower, And thus her semblance christened. Was he a proper Quaker lad In suit of simple gray? What fortune had his venturous speech, And was it "yea" or "nay"? And if indeed she murmured "yea," And throbbed with worldly bliss, I wonder if in such a case Do Quakers really kiss? Or was it some love-wildered beau Of old colonial days, With clouded cane and broidered coat, And very artful ways? And did he whisper through her curls Some wicked, pleasant vow, And swear no courtly dame had words As sweet as "thee" and "thou"? Or did he praise her dimpled chin In eager song or sonnet, And find a merry way to cheat Her kiss-defying bonnet? And sang he then in verses gay, Amid this forest shady, The dainty flower at her feet Was like his Quaker lady? And did she pine in English fogs, Or was his love enough? And did she learn to sport the fan, And use the patch and puff? Alas! perhaps she played quadrille, And, naughty grown and older, Was pleased to show a dainty neck Above a snowy shoulder. But sometimes in the spring, I think, She saw, as in a dream, The meeting-house, the home sedate, The Schuylkill's quiet stream; And sometimes in the minuet's pause Her heart went wide afield To where, amid the woods of May, A blush its love revealed. Till far away from court and king And powder and brocade, The Quaker ladies at her feet Their quaint obeisance made. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE QUAKER WIDOW by BAYARD TAYLOR CASSANDRA SOUTHWICK; 1658 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER FIRST-DAY THOUGHTS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER DRAB BONNETS by BERNARD BARTON THE QUAKER POET; VERSES ON SEEING MYSELF SO DESIGNATED by BERNARD BARTON VERSES SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN IN A BURIAL-GROUND .. SOCIETY OF FRIENDS by BERNARD BARTON A POETICAL VERSION OF A LETTER ON RESIGNATION, FROM JACOB BEHMEN by JOHN BYROM FAMILIAR EPISTLES ON A SERMON, 'OFFICE & OPERATIONS OF HOLY SPIRIT': 1 by JOHN BYROM FOR THE DUE IMPROVEMENT OF A FUNERAL SOLEMNITY by JOHN BYROM A DECANTER OF MADEIRA, AGED 86, TO GEORGE BANCROFT, AGED 86 by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL HOW THE CUMBERLAND WENT DOWN [MARCH 8, 1862] by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL |
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