AT Cato's Head in Russell Street These leaves she sat a-stitching; I fancy she was trim and neat, Blue-eyed and quite bewitching. Before her on the street below, All powder, ruffs, and laces, There strutted idle London beaux To ogle pretty faces; While, filling many a Sedan chair With monstrous hoop and feather, In paint and powder London's fair Went trooping past together. Swift, Addison, and Pope, mayhap They sauntered slowly past her, Or printer's boy, with gown and cap, For Steele, went trotting faster. For beau nor wit had she a look; Nor lord nor lady minding, She bent her head above this book, Attentive to her binding. And one stray thread of golden hair, Caught on her nimble fingers, Was stitched within this volume, where Until to-day it lingers. Past and forgotten, beaux and fair, Wigs, powder, all outdated; A queer antique, the Sedan chair, Pope, stiff and antiquated. Yet as I turn these odd old plays, This single stray lock finding, I'm back in those forgotten days, And watch her at her binding. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY MOTHER LEFT ME by KAREN SWENSON THE CLOTE (WATER-LILY) by WILLIAM BARNES CHRISTMAS CAROL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR EPIGRAM ENGRAVED ON THE COLLAR OF A DOG by ALEXANDER POPE WHY PLAGUE ME, LOVES? by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS ON TYING DAPHNE'S SHOE by J. STUART BRYAN FOUR SONGS BY WAY OF CHORUS TO A PLAY: 3. SEPARATION OF LOVERS by THOMAS CAREW TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. THE LONG DAY IN THE OPEN by EDWARD CARPENTER |