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Poem by Joyce Kilmer

Servant Girl and Grocers Boy

Her lips remark was: Oh, you kid!
Her soul spoke thus (I know it did):

O king of realms of endless joy,
My own, my golden grocers boy,
I am a princess forced to dwell
Within a lonely kitchen cell,
While you go dashing through the land
With loveliness on every hand.
Your whistle strikes my eager ears
Like music of the choiring spheres.
The mighty earth grows faint and reels
Beneath your thundering wagon wheels.
How keenly, perilously sweet
To cling upon that swaying seat!
How happy she who by your side
May share the splendors of that ride!
Ah, if you will not take my hand
And bear me off across the land,
Then, traveller from Arcady,
Remain awhile and comfort me.
What other maiden can you find
So young and delicate and kind?
Her lips remark was: Oh, you kid!
Her soul spoke thus (I know it did).

Joyce Kilmer

Joyce Kilmer's other poems:
  1. Multiplication
  2. Father Gerard Hopkins, S. J.
  3. To A Young Poet Who Killed Himself
  4. Citizen of the World
  5. The White Ships and the Red

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