_Or Whisperin's of Nature to Betsy Bobbett_
Last night as I meandered out
To meditate apart,
Secluded in my parasol,
Deep subjects shook my heart.
The earth, the skies, the prattling brooks
All thundered in my ear--
It is matrimony, it is matrimony,
That is a woman's spear.
Day, with a red shirred bunnet on
Had down for China started,
Its yellow ribbons fluttered o'er
Her head as she departed--
She seemed to wink her eyes on me
As she did disappear--
And say it is matrimony, Betsy
That is a woman's spear.
A rustic had broke down his team,
I mused almost in tears,
How can a yoke be borne along
By half a pair of steers?
Even thus in wrath did Nature speak
Hear, Betsy Bobbett, hear;
It is matrimony, it is matrimony,
That is a woman's spear.
I saw a pair of roses
Like wedded pardners grow,
Sharp thorns did pave their mortal path,
Yet sweetly did they blow.
They seemed to blow these glorious words
Into my willing ear,
It is matrimony, it is matrimony
That is a woman's spear.
Two gentle sheep upon the hills,
How sweet the twain did run,
As I meandered gently on
And sot down on a stun;
They seemed to murmur sheepishly
Oh Betsy Bobbett, dear--
It is matrimony, it is matrimony,
That is a woman's spear.
Sweet wuz the honeysuckle's breath
Upon the ambient air,
Sweet wuz the tender coo of doves,
Yet sweeter husbands are;
All Nature's voices poured these words
Into my willing ear,
B. Bobbett, it is matrimony,
That is a woman's spear.