If I were younger, Mary Jane Would not so gayly flout me. Or if she did I 'd make it plain She could not do without me. She will not be my valentine. Forsooth, the maids are plenty— I 'll venture that she would be mine If I were one-and-twenty! Why, forty years ago there were A score I could have married, And every one outfavored her; But then, of course, I tarried Till Ann and Lou and Susie, too, And all the rest, I mind me, Dropped me because, they said, they knew They knew not where to find me. But as it is the Widow Black, Thank heaven, has some reason, And knows that men, like fruit, don't lack In worth if out of season. To her I 'll send a billet-doux And state my fortune clearly— Some thousands, I 'll admit to you— And she will love me dearly! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAROL: NEW STYLE by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET BRUTUS LIVES AGAIN IN BOOTH by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: ALMA BELL TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE NEW APOCRYPHA: THE FIG TREE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO A SCREEN-MAKER by MARIANNE MOORE HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 9 by EZRA POUND |