Poems (Scudder)/Two Little Ladies
TWO LITTLE LADIES
I know two dear little old-fashioned ladies—Sisters, I think—who live just round the corner In a small brick house with funny window boxes. I see them coming home each day from market In their soft silken dresses and quaint bonnets; Their profiles are clear-cut and delicate, They walk with little toddling steps like doves. —And I would love to follow them within Their house and see it all; the tiny parlor Whose walls I know are panelled in brocade Of softest gold and blue, while all around The fireplace are set tiles whose azure patterns Tell a forgotten legend. On the mantel Beside the tall gilt clock are peacock feathers Standing up straight in a vase of yellow porcelain. Then I would cross the narrow hallway; peer Into the dining-room that looks upon A high-walled garden—but the windows of it Are almost dark with tangled honeysuckle; And in the glass-doored cupboard there'd be plates And cups of china painted by themselves A trifle smudged—the work of amateurs. I often wonder what they have for supper—Such cream-white custards might be baked in thimbles, And cookies with sliced citron and burnt almonds, Plump cherries floating in a golden syrup, And tea of course—perhaps, on great occasions They dare to sip a cordial sharply fragrant As the heliotrope that blossoms in their garden. —Then, I would climb the winding stairway; see Their sleeping-chamber with the prim white beds That smell of lavender, and every piece Of furniture is carved of ancient rosewood. Perhaps, on the grey-patterned walls are hanging The family silhouettes each trimly framed In black and gilt; perhaps, a mirror like You see in antique shops with greenish, wrinkled Glass—and above it is a queer old painting In boldest colors of the Bay of Naples. I wonder if they sit up late at night Reading—between them in its silver holder Burns a tall candle, and they nibble cakes, And sip each from a tiny gilded tumbler Of orange-flower water. Once I read In an old book of a tall gilded bottle Of orange-flower water—and the cool Sweet sound of it possessed me then and ever —Yes, I would love to follow the dear ladies And see their home—but I will never try it For fear things might not be just as I've dreamt them.