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THE LAST COACH
"List!" said the maid, "'tis to my neighbour's gate
Come these proud horses, hear their harness ring.
Perchance her natal feast she holds in state,
And ev'ry guest some precious gift will bring.
"Hark! how they pass, full forty steeds and more,
My neighbour's child is but a maid like me;
Hear how her friends all whisper by her door,
While I forlorn and all neglected be."
"Thy humble coach last in the throng may wait,
Slow to advance while others hold the way;
Perchance but now it passes to our gate,
Let me look forth and seek the strange delay."
The mother rose and to the window went,
With sore embittered heart that this parade
Was not for her dear girl; then slowly bent
There for a moment, silent and dismayed.
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