Poems (Probyn)/Swinging

by May Probyn

SWINGING. (PANTOUM.^[1])

Birds in the tree-tops were singing— It was the middle of June;Dolly sat dreamily swinging— Coming was Somebody soon.

It was the middle of June, All the green leaves were a-flicker,—Coming was Somebody soon— Surely he might have come quicker!

All the green leaves were a-flicker, Hid they a glimpse of the gate;Surely he might have come quicker! What could have made him so late?

Hid they a glimpse of the gate, Roses, with bumble-bees humming—What could have made him so late? Hark! now a footstep was coming!

Roses, with bumble-bees humming— Doily swung on at her ease;Hark! now a footstep was coming! Could she be seen through the trees?

Dolly swung on at her ease, Forward and backward, half dreaming—Could she be seen through the trees, White in the walnut-boughs gleaming?

Forward and backward half dreaming— Let him come find her, she said—White in the walnut-boughs gleaming— She would not call him instead!

Let him come find her, she said— Oh, she would show herself haughty!She would not call him instead— He was so lazy and naughty!

Oh, she would show herself haughty! Oh, he should meet with his match!He was so lazy and naughty— Click! went the sound of the latch.

Oh, he should meet with his match! Sudden, or ever she reckoned,Click! went the sound of the latch— He would be here in a second!

Sudden, or ever she reckoned, Blushed she as red as a rose—He would be here in a second! Perhaps he had hurried—who knows?

Blushed she as red as a rose, Looking so doubtful and pretty—Perhaps he had hurried—who knows? To quarrel would be such a pity!

Looking so doubtful and pretty— Speak, or allow him to pass?To quarrel would be such a pity—- There was his step on the grass!

Speak, or allow him to pass? Let him go by without stopping?There was his step on the grass! Ah! how the roses were dropping.

Let him go by without stopping? Up, and to meet him she flew!Ah! how the roses were dropping— Sweetly the summer wind blew.

Up, and to meet him she flew,— Arms round his neck she was flinging,—Sweetly the summer wind blew— Birds in the tree-tops were singing.

1. A Malay measure.