Poems (Osgood)/The Lover's List

by Frances Sargent Osgood

THE LOVER'S LIST

a ballad

"Come, sit on this bank so shady,
 Sweet Evelyn, sit with me
And count me your loves, fair lady!
 How many may they be

The maiden smiled on her lover,
 And traced with her dimpled hand,
Of names, a dozen and over,
 Down in the shining sand.

"And now," said Evelyn, rising,
 "Sir Knight! your own, if you please;
And if there be no disguising,
 The list will out-number these.

"Then count me them truly, rover
 And the noble knight obey'd,
And of names, a dozen and over
 He traced within the shade.

Fair Evelyn pouted proudly;
 She sigh'd—" Will he never have done
And at last she murmur'd loudly,
 "I thought he would write but one!"

"Now read!"—said the gay youth, rising—
 "The scroll,—it is fair and free,
In truth there is no disguising,
 That list is the world to me!"

She read it with joy and wonder,
 For the first was her own sweet name,
And again and again written under,
 It was still—it was still the same!

It began with—"my Evelyn fairest!"
 It ended with—"Evelyn best!"
And epithets fondest and dearest
 Vere lavish'd between on the rest.—

There were tears in the eyes of the lady
 As she swept, with her delicate trend,
On the river-bank cool and shady,
 The list she had traced in the sand.

There were smiles on the lip of the maiden
 As she turn'd to her knight once more,
And the heart was with joy o'eladen,
 That was heavy with doubt before!