The Gateway, by George Houghton

The Gateway

A Vacation Episode We crossed the pasture-land together,
I knew that now my time drew near,
And hastened, longing for the moment,
Yet lingering, holding back in fear.   I wished the sunshine would not flicker
Across the river in my eyes;
Then hers she shaded with her bonnet--
How could I talk through that disguise!   I wished the catbird would not whistle,
I paused till he grew tired and still;
And then the frogs took up the music,
And lambs came bleating from the hill.   Now all was silent; in the stubble
The crickets even held their peace;
But yet I waited, wishing only
That all the crickets would not cease.   I saw the gateway as we neared it,
I shaped my mouth and formed the word,
When from her bonnet, bent demurely,
A little laugh I thought I heard.   A ploughboy passing, smiled and nodded,
I bit my lip and blushed for shame;
Then stooped to pick a blood-red berry, --
'Twas sour, and speechless I became.   I leaned upon the bars; she fluttered
A farewell signal back to me;
I turned, I staggered from the roadway, --
Gray fog came drifting from the sea.

poems.one - George Houghton

George Houghton