'SIXPENCE a week,' says the girl to her lover, 'Aunt used to bring me, for she could confide In me alone, she vowed. 'Twas to cover The cost of her headstone when she died. And that was a year ago last June; I've not yet fixed it. But I must soon.' 'And where is the money now, my dear?' 'O, snug in my purse ... Aunt was so slow In saving it - eighty weeks, or near.' ... 'Let's spend it,' he hints. 'For she won't know There's a dance to-night at the Load of Hay.' She passively nods. And they go that way. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON MILTON'S PARADISE LOST by ANDREW MARVELL NIOBE: THE GODS' CHILDREN by AESCHYLUS SILENUS IN PROTEUS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES ON H----YS FRIENDSHIP by WILLIAM BLAKE A RAINY DAY by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD DISTANCES by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |