When Daisy Trips Across The Square

When Daisy trips across the Square

In sloppy days, with grace and care,

I look without, perchance to see

What like the weather bids to be.

Each morning near to half-past eight,

She comes with light, elastic gait,

And then, halting, just in front of where

I wheel a round my office chair,

She lifts her skirts with movements rare,

And trips across the crowded Square.

I do not know the creature’s name,

Or where she goes, or whence she came,

And so I call her Daisy, for

She rivals those I ever saw.

Each day I think I’ll look no more,

While she is tripping lightly o’er,

But, somehow, as she halts there

I look to see her cross the Square.

And then that old childhood idea,

That sights through window glass appear

Unlike they do to open view,

Crowds all my modest thoughts askew;

And whispers that the sights I see

May not be all reality;

And that it is no act unfair

To watch my lady cross the Square.

And so the tiresome days go by;

And still I watch with eager eye;

For now it lights up life, I swear,

To see my unknown cross the Square.

Feb. 7, ‘94

Pub. in B. Courier,

April 29, 1894