Poems (Osgood)/Why don't he Come

by Frances Sargent Osgood

WHY DON'T HE COME?

All the girls in the village save me have gone forth,
To meet the brave soldiers return'd from the North,
They have donn'd the best kirtle and braided their hair,
And gayly their voices ring back on the air;
But I am too happy to care for my dress,
Or to bind with bright ribands the wild-waving tress,
For the fairest, and bravest, and best of the band,
Will claim, ere the morrow, this heart and this hand.
Hush! hark! far away! 'tis the bugle and drum!
Now louder and nearer—oh! why don't he come?

I cannot go forth with the others to claim
His smile—his caresses—I cannot for shame!
For my love is too holy, my joy is too high,
To bear the light gaze of each villager's eye;
He would think I had changed,—I should shrink from his touch,—
I should hate them to see that I love him so much.
But here! oh! how fondly I'll welcome him home!
He knows I am waiting him—why don't he come?

Perhaps cousin Mabel has seen him ere this,—
She would not be bashful at claiming a kiss;
How exulting she look'd as she join'd the gay gifts,
With those red berries wreathing her shadowy curls!
It is true all the lads say her smile is divine,
But I don't think her eyes are so pretty as mine;—
So black and so bold! and they dazzle one so!
My Willie loves blue eyes and light hair, I know:
He will not forget his own Ellen at home,
For Mabel or any one,—when will he come?

I'm weary of waiting—how strangely unkind
To linger so from me,—I've made up my mind
I won't kiss him now, when he does—ah! behold!
Who hastes o'er the common with bearing so bold?
He waves his plumed cap! it is he! it is he!
Bless his heart—how he flies no' he's caught sight of me!
Ah! Mabel may listen the bugle and drum,
And bewitch the whole regiment—Willie has come!