Yet
(AFTER F. E. W.) Sing me a drawing-room song, darling! Sing by the sunset’s glow; Now while the shadows are long, darling; Now while the lights are low; Something so chaste and so coy, darling! Something that melts the chest; Milder than even Molloy, darling! Better than Bingham’s best. Sing me a drawing-room song, darling! Sing as you sang of yore, Lisping of love that is strong, darling! Strong as a big barn-door; Let the true knight be bold, darling! Let him arrive too late; Stick in a bower of gold, darling! Stick in a golden gate. Sing me a drawing-room song, darling! Bear on the angels’ wings Children that know no wrong, darling! Little cherubic things! Sing of their sunny hair, darling! Get them to die in June; Wake, if you can, on the stair, darling! Echoes of tiny shoon. Sing me a drawing-room song, darling! Sentiment may be false, Yet it will worry along, darling! Set to a tum-tum valse; See that the verses are few, darling! Keep to the rule of three; That will be better for you, darling! Certainly better for me.
Owen Seaman’s other poems:
- Tactless Tactics
- The Wayside Calvary
- A New Blue Book
- To a Boy-Poet of the Decadence
- To Belgium in Exile
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