Etchings in Verse (Underhill)/Marguerite

by Andrew Findlay Underhill

INTERLUDES.

MARGUERITE.

Do you know, Marguerite?
You with lips so tender sweet,
 Of the havoc you have played
 With my heart, you roguish maid—
Can you see, Marguerite?

Would you care, Marguerite?
Would your heart with sorrow beat,
 If I lost my worldly pelf,
 And were put upon the shelf,
So to speak, Marguerite?

Would you weep, Marguerite?
If I died, would you repeat
 Requiem Masses for my soul?
 Would your life be one of dole,
Reft of me, Marguerite?

Ah! I fear, Marguerite,
That your love is light, and fleet;
 That your heart is but a stone,
 Since you frown upon my own
In this way, Marguerite.

Then adieu, Marguerite:
There's another who will greet
 My love with more respect;
 Who, I know, will not object
To my suit, Marguerite.

Are those tears, Marguerite?
Would your joy not be complete,
 If I sought her hand instead?—
 What! You wish that she were dead!—
She ne'er lived, Marguerite.

Turn your eyes, Marguerite.
Look me fair, and kiss me sweet—
 'Tis no use to frown, and pout;
 Don't you know that love will out
First or last, Marguerite?