Coming Home from the Fair, by Anna Katherine Green

Coming Home from the Fair

She thinks she is pretty--look there!
How she smiles in his face through her hair,
With a gleam in her eye like the star-drop you see
In a blossom half ope to the bee.   She thinks she is pretty--her cheeks
Have a dimple so sweet when she speaks,
And she wonders perchance as she leans on his arm
If I know or can guess all her charm.   She thinks that he loves her, perhap,
That the fairing he threw in her lap,
Had a story to tell if she chose for her part
To remember a moment her heart.   She thinks that he loves her, ah yes;
And laughs in the gay consciousness,
With a throb of delight that the brown eyes should bear
Such a treasure as this from the fair.   But ah, if she knew, if she knew
What he whispered but now to the blue,
With a thrill in his voice and a look that was worth
All she gets from his youth and his mirth;   How the eyes that look down are the sweetest,
As those flowers are the rarest, completest,
Which the hand must uplift ere the gazer can see
All the treasures they hide from the bee.

poems.one - Anna Katherine Green

Anna Katherine Green