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Title: The Parson's Daughter
Author: Joseph Crosby Lincoln [
More Titles by Lincoln]
Little foot, whose lightest pat
Seems to glorify the mat,
Waving hair and picture hat,
Grace the nymphs have taught her;
Gown the pink of fit and style,
Lips that ravish when they smile,--
Like a vision, down the aisle
Comes the parson's daughter.
As she passes, like a dart
To each luckless fellow's heart
Leaps a throbbing thrill and smart,
When his eye has sought her;
Tries he then his sight to bless
With one glimpse of face or tress--
Does she know it?--well, I guess!
Parson's pretty daughter.
Leans she now upon her glove
Cheeks whose dimples tempt to love,
And, with saintly look above,
Hears her "Pa" exhort her;
But, within those upturned eyes,
Fair as sunny summer skies,
Just a hint of mischief lies,--
Parson's roguish daughter.
From their azure depths askance,
When the hymn-book gave the chance,
Did I get one laughing glance?
I was sure I caught her.
Are her thoughts so far amiss
As to stray, like mine, to bliss?
For, last night, I stole a kiss
From the parson's daughter.
[The end]
Joseph Crosby Lincoln's poem: Parson's Daughter
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