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Title: A Legend Of St. Valentine
Author: George Augustus Baker [
More Titles by Baker]
Come! Why, halloa, that you, Jack?
How's the world been using you?
Want your pipe? it's in the jar--
Think I might be looking blue.
Maud's been breaking off with me,
Fact--see here--I've got the ring.
That's the note she sent it in;
Read it--soothing sort of thing.
Jack, you know I write sometimes--
Must have read some things of mine.
Well, I thought I'd just send Maud
Something for a valentine.
So I ground some verses out
In the softest kind of style,
Full of love, and that, you know--
Bothered me an awful while;
Quite a heavy piece of work.
So when I had got them done--
Why, I thought them much too good
Just to waste that way on one.
Jack, I told you, didn't I,
All about that black-eyed girl
Up in Stratford--last July--
Oh! you know; you saw her curl?
Well, old fellow, she's the one
That this row is all about,
For I sent her--who'd have thought
Maud would ever find it out--
Those same verses, word for word--
Hang it, man! you needn't roar--
"Splendid joke!" well, so I thought--
No, don't think so any more.
Yesterday, you know it rained,
I'd been up late--at a ball--
Didn't know what else to do--
Went up and made Maud a call,
Found some other girl there, too,
They were playing a duet.
"Fred, my cousin, Nelly Deane,"--
Yes, Jack, there was my brunette;
You should just have seen me, Jack--
Now, old fellow, please don't laugh,
I feel bad about it--fact--
And I really can't stand chaff.
Well, I tried to talk to Maud,
There was Nell, though, sitting by;
Every now and then she'd laugh,
Sure I can't imagine why.
Maud would read that beastly poem,
Nell's eyes said in just one glance,
"Wont I make you pay for this,
If I ever get the chance!"
Some one came and rang the bell,
Just a note for Nell, by post.
Jack, I saw my monogram--
I'd have rather seen a ghost.
Yes--her verses--I suppose
That her folks had sent them down--
Couldn't get up there, you know--
Till she'd left and come to town.
Nelly looked them quickly through--
Laughed--by Jove, I thought she'd choke.
"Maud--he'll kill me--dear! oh, dear!--
Read that; isn't it a joke?"
Maud glanced through them--sank right down
On the sofa--hid her face--
"Crying!"--not much--laughing, Jack--
Don't think she's a hopeless case.
I just grabbed my hat and left--
Only wish I'd gone before.
How they laughed!--I heard them, Jack--
Till I got outside the door.
There, confession's done me good,
I can never win her back,
So I'll calmly let her slide--
Pass the ash-cup, will you, Jack.
[The end]
George Augustus Baker's poem: Legend Of St. Valentine
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