Poems (Merrill)/Adventure of a Lover

by Clara A. Merrill

ADVENTURE OF A LOVER

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'Twas Saturday eve.—The love-lorn swain
 Was hastening toward Jennie 's house;
His mien indicative of fear
 For neither man nor mouse.

But ere he reached the farmhouse gate
 An object he chanced to spy.—
Twas only a table-cloth Jennie had washed
 And hung on the line to dry.

But he knew it not, so there he stood
 Deciding what to do,—
He dare not venture too near the spook,—
 Yet the gate he must go through!—

The white cloth flapped in the gentle breeze—
 'Twas too much for Jennie's beau;
He turned and ran off down the hill
 As fast as he could go!

He imagined that footsteps were following fast,—
 So away like a gale ran he;
Nor did he stop, till he reached the top
 Of Squire Pettigrew's crab-apple tree!

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Just then the moon, with a bright smiling face,
 Came out from behind a black cloud,—
Little Nell, at the window, stood watching the moon,
 And she uttered a cry long and loud.—

"Oh! Mamma!—come look at this queer looking bird—
 An owl is perched up in our tree—
Or is it a night-hawk just taking a rest—
 What kind of a bird can it be?"

Miss Jennie came tripping along down the street,
 In the hope of meeting her lover;—
Then he quietly let himself down from the tree
 Before she had time to discover.

Then arm in arm they returned to the gate,—
 And he blushed, as in silence stood he
And saw the white spectre, which drove him in fright
 To the top of the crab-apple tree!