The Little Book of Modern Verse; a selection from the work of contemporaneous American poets by Unknown
page 43 of 283 (15%)
page 43 of 283 (15%)
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Da leetla hand dat was so cold.
He was so patience, oh, so sweet! Eet hurts my throat for theenk of eet; An' all he evra ask ees w'en Ees gona com' da spreeng agen. Wan day, wan brighta sunny day, He see, across da alleyway, Da leetla girl dat's livin' dere Ees raise her window for da air, An' put outside a leetla pot Of -- w'at-you-call? -- forgat-me-not. So smalla flower, so leetla theeng! But steell eet mak' hees hearta seeng: "Oh, now, at las', ees com' da spreeng! Da leetla plant ees glad for know Da sun ees com' for mak' eet grow. So, too, I am grow warm and strong." So lika dat he seeng hees song. But, Ah! da night com' down an' den Da weenter ees sneak back agen, An' een da alley all da night Ees fall da snow, so cold, so white, An' cover up da leetla pot Of -- w'at-you-call? -- forgat-me-not. All night da leetla hand I hold Ees grow so cold, so cold, so cold! Da spreeng ees com'; but oh, da joy Eet ees too late! He was so cold, my leetla boy, |
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