Page:Poems Craik.djvu/39

Could you e'er forgive it,
 Pretty Valentine'?

Honey-moon quite over,
 If I less should scan
You with eye of lover
 Than of mortal man?
Seeing my fair charmer
 Curl hair spire on spire,
All in paper armor,
 By the parlor fire;
Gown that wants a stitch in
 Hid by apron fine,
Scolding in her kitchen,—
 O fie, Valentine!

Should I come home surly
 Vexed with fortune's frown,
Find a hurly-burly,
 House turned upside down,
Servants all a-snarl, or
 Cleaning steps or stair:
Breakfast still in parlor,
 Dinner—anywhere:
Shall I to cold bacon
 Meekly fall and dine?
No,—or I 'm mistaken
 Much, my Valentine.