At The Hop
?Tis time to dress. Dost hear the music surging
Like sobbing waves that roll up from the sea?
Yes, yes, I hear ? I yield ? no need of urging;
I know your wishes, - send Lisette to me.
I hate the ballroom; hate its gilded pleasure;
I hate the crowd within it, well you know;
But what of that? I am your lawful treasure ?
And when you would display me I must go.
You bought me with a mother?s pain and trouble.
I?ve been a great expense to you always.
And now, if you can sell me, and get double
The sum cost ? why, what have I to say?
You?ve done your duty: kept me in the fashion,
And shown off me at every stylish place.
?Twas not your fault I had a heart of passion;
?Twas not your fault I ever saw his face.
The dream was brief, and beautiful, and tender,
(O, God! to live those golden hours once more.
The silver moonlight, and his dark eyes? splendour,
The sky above us, and the sea below.)
Come, come, Lisette, bring out those royal laces;
To-night must make the victory complete.
Among the crowd of masked and smiling faces,
I?ll move with laughter, and with smiles most sweet.
Make me most fair! with youth and grace and beauty.
I needs must conquer bloated age and gold.
She shall not say I have not done my duty;
I?m ready now ? a daughter to be sold!
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Vous avez aimé cette poésie ? faites la connaître !
D'autres poésies de Ella Wheeler Wilcox
"It Might Have Been"
We will be what we could be. Do not say,
"It might have...
A Baby In The House
I knew that a baby was hid in that house,
Though I saw...
A Fallen Leaf
A trusting little leaf of green,
A bold audacious frost;...
A Fatal Impress
A little leaf just in the forest's edge,
All summer long,...
A Golden Day
The subtle beauty of this day
Hangs o'er me like a fairy...
A Grey Mood
As we hurry away to the end, my friend,
Of this sad...
A Holiday
The Wife
The house is like a garden,
The children...
A Leaf
Somebody said, in the crowd, last eve,
That you were...
A Lovers' Quarrel
We two were lovers, the Sea and I;
We plighted our troth...
A Maiden To Her Mirror
He said he loved me! Then he called my hair
Silk threads...
Précédentes poésies
Women
My three sisters are sitting
on rocks of black...
Victory
Something spreading underground won't speak to us
under...
Two Songs
1.
Sex, as they harshly call it,
I fell into...
Stepping Backward
Good-by to you whom I shall see tomorrow,
Next year and...
Snapshots of a Daughter-in-Law
1
You, once a belle in Shreveport,
with...
