I STOLE a glance at Polly, Her chin was tilted high, She scorned me then, — 't was folly To dare to even try. So, like a goose I showed the feather, And sat and talked about the weather. But now I've grown much wiser, Next time I will surprise her, — And when her chin is high, you see, I'll know that it is "up to me." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET (6) by GEORGE SANTAYANA PLAYING SOMEONE ELSE'S PIANO by KAREN SWENSON THE NETHERLANDS by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE CACOETHES SCRIBENDI by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG: HER MORAL by THOMAS HOOD ON SOMETHING THAT WALKS SOMEWHERE by BEN JONSON THE SONG OF FIONNUALA by THOMAS MOORE |