The town thought me a model woman With my girlish hair tumbling down my brow. I kept my secret well And even to-day Nobody realizes the truth That at various times in fits of temper I burned the orphan asylum, Murdered my father because I didn't like The smell of his pipe, And forged his will in my favor; People didn't understand What a horrid thing I was when I got started. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VOLUNTEER by ELBRIDGE JEFFERSON CUTLER I WOULD NOT LIFT THY VEIL by A. LOUISE ASHWORTH MY UPPER SHELVES by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON COURAGE REGAINED by BERTHA TODD CAMPBELL MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE LORD HAYES: TO THEOPHILUS HOWARD by THOMAS CAMPION FRUITIONLESS by INA DONNA COOLBRITH TO THE QUEEN, AN APOLOGIE FOR THE LENGTH OF THE PANEGYRICK by RICHARD CRASHAW |