Between the line of firelight flash
And daylight's purple gloom,
Thinking how girlish voice and form
Gladdened the dim old room.
" What will you wear, Anita, dear;
Garnet, or friar's gray?
I mean to wear a lovely blue,
Made in a charming way.
I'll have pink roses in my hat,
Just perched upon the brim;
Somebody likes them — you know who;
Not that I care for him !
"But one loves roses for themselves.
And you — what will you wear?
Oh, if you wish a lovely shade,
You need but match your hair.
What funny shopping that would be,
Where fabrics, wide unrolled,
Would lack, this one the shadow brown,
And that the gleaming gold!"
"Nay, Myrtle, I shall foil my locks,
Not match them; so 'twill be
A pansy purple, made en suite,
With basque and flounces three;
A chain of gold about my neck,
And golden-tinted gloves, you know."
The tea-bell rang. That night — ah me!
It seems so long ago.
Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/109
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When Jonquils Bloom.
103
