Читать книгу The Bee's Bayonet (a Little Honey and a Little Sting) - Edwin Alfred Watrous - Страница 7

How I loved her! There on the gate we'd lean,

(The dear, old gate that never gave away

The loving nothings we were wont to say)

From day to day,

And sometimes after dark;

She was my Angel-Sweetheart, just sixteen.

But I was shy! And while I longed to taste

The nectar of her lips, I was afraid

To draw her to my breast and kiss the Maid:

But I essayed!

And this is what I drew—

"There's Papa with the bulldog, so make haste!"

What could I do? The "bark" was flecked with foam,

And old man Jones was meaner than a cur;

So there I stood 'twixt fear, and love of her

And didn't stir

Until they came: and then

I kissed them all Good-bye and beat it home.