'MY bride is not coming, alas!' says the groom, And the telegram shakes in his hand. 'I own It was hurried! We met at a dancing-room When I went to the Cattle-Show alone, And then, next night, where the Fountain leaps, And the Street of the Quarter-Circle sweeps. 'Ay, she won me to ask her to be my wife - 'Twas foolish perhaps! - to forsake the ways Of the flaring town for a farmer's life. She agreed. And we fixed it. Now she says: "It's sweet of you, dear, to prepare me a nest, But a swift, short, gay life suits me best. What I really am you have never gleaned; I had eaten the apple ere you were weaned."' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOT TRANSHISTORICAL DEATH, OR AT LEAST NOT QUITE by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE LITANY OF THE DARK PEOPLE by COUNTEE CULLEN TO J. D. H. (KILLED AT SURREY C. H., OCTOBER, 1866) by SIDNEY LANIER CRITIC AND POET by EMMA LAZARUS WAITER IN A CALIFORNIA VIETNAMESE RESTURANT by CLARENCE MAJOR |