The troubadours sing merrily Of maids of wealth and station Who have no occupation Save breaking hearts; but, verily, My wit must run contrarily; For, with unfeigned elation, I sing a maid without renown— Sweet Dolly in her gingham gown! She smiles on me diurnally As I pass by her posies. Just now she prunes her roses And talks to me fraternally, But dazzles me supernally When her flared gown discloses The fairest throat in all the town— Sweet Dolly's in her gingham gown! Heigho! If I were not so old— Long years too old for folly— This dear suburban Dolly Might find me seeming overbold; Might not complain that I am "cold" And growing melancholy! Ah, well! she 'll wed some youthful clown, Will Dolly, in her gingham gown! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG OF TWO CROWS by HAYDEN CARRUTH IN LOVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: GREGORY WENNER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ISAIAH, JEREMIAH, EXEKIEL, DANIEL by MARIANNE MOORE INFERENTIAL by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON NURSING HOME: THE DOLL by KAREN SWENSON |