Little Red Riding-Hood (Osgood)
Dear little wanderer, dancing along,
Now with a silver laugh, now with a song;
Little that loving heart, guileless and gay,
Dream'd of the evils that darken'd thy way!
Soft from the crimson hood floated her hair,
Changing to gold in the sun-lighted air;
Blue as the hare-bell that, as she tripp'd by,
Kiss'd her light feet in love, shone her young eye—
Bright as you rivulet glanced to the day,
Dimpled her cheek in her smile's sunny play.
Oh, 'tis a fable 'twere sin to believe!
How could the wolf such a darling deceive?
Say that she met him there! that may be so—
Innocence walks not unperill'd below—
But, on the faith of a poet, the rest
Is but a libel and should be suppress'd.
Say that she met him there, face unto face!
Soft o'er the savage, the magic of grace,
Sweetness and purity, beauty and love,
Stole to his heart like the coo of a dove.
One earnest look of those eloquent eyes—
One music-tone of her childish surprise—
Melted the iron of evil design
Into soft homage for grace so divine;
And if he spoke to her—so goes the tale—
These must have been the words growl'd on the gale:
"Flower of the spring-tide, graceful and wild,
Never come harm to thee, beautiful child!
Speed on thine errand, unconscious of art,
Bloom on thy young cheek, and love in thy heart!
Bare to the sunset those soft waving curls,
Fearless and frolicsome, fairest of girls!
See how yon changing sky fades with the day!
Little Red Riding-Hood, haste on thy way!"