Saturday Song

They talk about gardens of roses,
And moonlight over the sea,
And mountains and snow
And sunsetty glow,
But I know what is best for me.
The prettiest sight I know,
Worth all your roses and snow,
Is the blaze of light on a Saturday night,
When the barrows are set in a row.

I've heard of bazaars in India
All glitter and spices and smells,
But they don't compare
With the naphtha flare
And the herrings the coster sells;
And the oranges piled like gold,
The cucumbers lean and cold,
And the red and white block-trimmings
And the strawberries fresh and ripe,
And the peas and beans,
And the sprouts and greens,
And the 'taters and trotters and tripe.

And the shops where they sell the chairs,
The mangles and tables and bedding,
And the lovers go by in pairs,
And look--and think of the wedding.
And your girl has her arm in yours,
And you whisper and make her blush.
Oh! the snap in her eyes--and her smiles and her sighs
As she fancies the purple plush!

And you haven't a penny to spend,
But you dream that you've pounds and pounds;
And arm in arm with your only friend
You make your Saturday rounds:
And you see the cradle bright
With ribbon--lace--pink and white;
And she stops her laugh
And you drop your chaff
In the light of the Saturday night.
And the world is new
For her and you -
A little bit of all-right.

by Edith Nesbit

Comments (7)

Interesting write....I had to read it till the end.
interesting ending - what works with this poem is - it kept me going to the end wanting to know why and what would happen - sign of a good story teller
Herbert one writes what one feels, I have written many a crime poem over the years because I am am interested in criminology. I liked your poem it flowed well, I love to read a poem where the pen flows to make easy reading and this one did.
Aah, a poem to my liking. It sends chills up and down my spine, you're 10 awaits.
Did you write this from a pure fictional angle or did it realte to an actual happening? ? ?
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