Chapter V: Her Own

“And were he everything to which I’ve listened;
Though he were ugly, awkward (and he isn’t)—
Poor, low-born, and destitute of ‘go,’
He is worth loving, for I love him so!”
_Punch._

CONVERSATIONAL

“HOW’S your father?” came the whisper,
Bashful Ned the silence breaking;
“Oh, he’s nicely,” Annie murmured,
Smilingly the question taking.

Conversation flagged a moment,
Hopeless Ned essayed another:
“Annie, I—I,” then a coughing,
And the question, “How’s your mother?”

“Mother? Oh, she’s doing finely!”
Fleeting fast was all forbearance,
When in low, despairing accents,
Came the climax, “How’s your parents?”
_Anonymous._

IF YOU WANT A KISS, WHY, TAKE IT

THERE’S a jolly Saxon proverb
That is pretty much like this—
That a man is half in heaven
If he has a woman’s kiss.
There is danger in delaying,
For the sweetness may forsake it;
So I tell you, bashful lover,
If you want a kiss, why, take it.

Never let another fellow
Steal a march on you in this;
Never let a laughing maiden
See you spoiling for a kiss.
There’s a royal way to kissing,
And the jolly ones who make it
Have a motto that is winning,—
If you want a kiss, why, take it.

Any fool may face a cannon,
Anybody wear a crown,
But a man must win a woman
If he’d have her for his own.
Would you have the golden apple,
You must find the tree and shake it;
If the thing is worth the having,
And you want a kiss, why take it.

Who would burn upon a desert
With a forest smiling by?
Who would change his sunny summer
For a bleak and wintry sky?
Oh, I tell you there is magic,
And you cannot, cannot break it;
For the sweetest part of loving
Is to want a kiss, and take it.
_Anonymous._

EDUCATIONAL COURTSHIP

SHE was a Boston maiden, and she’d scarcely passed eighteen,
And as lovely as an houri, but of grave and sober mien,
A sweet encyclopædia of every kind of lore,
Though love looked coyly from behind the glasses that she wore.

She sat beside her lover, with her elbow on his knee,
And dreamily she gazed upon the slumbering summer sea,
Until he broke the silence, saying, “Pray, Minerva, dear,
Inform me of the meaning of the Thingness of the Here?

“I know you’re just from Concord, where the lights of wisdom be,
Your head crammed full to bursting with their philosophy,—
Those hairy-headed sages and maids of hosiery blue;
Then solve me the conundrum, love, that I have put to you.”

She smiled a dreamy smile, and said, “The Thingness of the Here
Is that which is not passed and hasn’t yet arrived, my dear.
Indeed,” the maid continued, with a calm, unruffled brow,
“The Thingness of the Here is just the Thingness of the Now.”

A smile illumed the lover’s face; then, without undue haste,
He slid a manly arm around the maiden’s slender waist,
And on her cherry lips impressed a warm and loving kiss,
And said, “Love, this is what I call the Nowness of the This.”
_Anonymous._

KISSING’S NO SIN

SOME say that kissing’s a sin;
But I think it’s nane ava,
For kissing has wonn’d in this warld
Since ever there was twa.

O, if it wasna lawfu’
Lawyers wadna allow it;
If it wasna holy,
Ministers wadna do it.

If it wasna modest,
Maidens wadna tak’ it;
If it wasna plenty,
Puir folks wadna get it.
_Anonymous._

THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD

WHAT’S the best thing in the world?
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;
Truth, not cruel to a friend;
Pleasure, not in haste to end;
Beauty, not self-decked and curled
Till its pride is over-plain;
Light, that never makes you wink;
Memory, that gives no pain;
Love, when, _so_, you’re loved again.
What’s the best thing in the world?—
Something out of it, I think.
_Anonymous._

HER NEIGHBOURS

THEY lingered at her father’s door,
The moon was shining bright,
And to the maiden o’er and o’er
The youth had said, “Good night.”

But still reluctant to depart,
Her tiny hand he pressed,
While all the love that filled his heart
His ardent looks confessed.

At length she closer to him crept,
Her eyes upon him bent,
And softly asked, “How have you kept,
Thus far, the fast of Lent?”

He smiled, and, as a manly arm
Around her waist he threw,
He said, “I’ve done no neighbour harm—
Pray, tell me, how have you?”

“Oh! better far, I’m sure,” she said,
The charming little elf.
“I’ve loved (she blushed and bent her head)
My neighbour as myself.”

“Who is your neighbour?” questioned he,
As to his breast he drew
The gentle maid, and blushing, she
With one word answered—“You.”
_Anonymous._

TO CELIA

(_Who refuses to be drawn into an argument_)

DEAR, if you carelessly agree,
With that so irritating air,
To every word that falls from me—
Dear, if you care

To drive a lover to despair
With bland “Oh, yes,” and “Ah, I see,”—
Why, do it, if you like—so there!

It vindicates my theory
No woman’s wise as well as fair;
And yet ... how clever you can be,
Dear, if you care!
_E. H. Lacon Watson._

IN FOR IT