(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950 / Rockland / Maine / United States)

The Goose-Girl

Spring rides no horses down the hill,
But comes on foot, a goose-girl still.
And all the loveliest things there be
Come simply, so, it seems to me.
If ever I said, in grief or pride,
I tired of honest things, I lied:
And should be cursed forevermore
With Love in laces, like a whore,
And neighbours cold, and friends unsteady,
And Spring on horseback, like a lady!

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Comments (4)

The magic of the golden goose
Nice poem
Sassy indeed it has a uneque twist and use of vocabulary.
Enjoyed this quirky and sassy little poem!