THE TENDER HEART.
BY HELEN GRAY CONE.
She gazed upon the burnished brace
Of partridges he showed with pride;
Angelic grief was in her face;
"How _could_ you do it, dear?" she sighed,
"The poor, pathetic, moveless wings!
The songs all hushed--oh, cruel shame!"
Said he, "The partridge never sings."
Said she, "The sin is quite the same.
"You men are savage through and through.
A boy is always bringing in
Some string of bird's eggs, white or blue,
Or butterfly upon a pin.
The angle-worm in anguish dies,
Impaled, the pretty trout to tease----"
"My own, I fish for trout with flies----"
"Don't wander from the question, please!"
She quoted Burns's "Wounded Hare,"
And certain burning lines of Blake's,
And Ruskin on the fowls of air,
And Coleridge on the water-snakes.
At Emerson's "Forbearance" he
Began to feel his will benumbed;
At Browning's "Donald" utterly
His soul surrendered and succumbed.
"Oh, gentlest of all gentle girls,"
He thought, "beneath the blessed sun!"
He saw her lashes hung with pearls,
And swore to give away his gun.
Pages:
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475