Shepherd in delicate Dresden china,
Loitering ever the while you twine a
Garland of oddly azure roses,
All for a shepherdess passing fair;
Poor little shepherdess waiting there
All the time for your china posies,
Posies pale for her jet-black hair!
Doesn't she wait (oh the anxious glances!)
Flowers for one of your stately dances,
A crown to finish a dainty toilette,
(Haven't the harps just now begun,
Minuets 'neath a china sun?)--
Doesn't she dread that the dust may soil it,
When, oh _when_ will the boy be done?
Summer and winter and still you linger,
Laggard lover with lazy finger,
Never your little maid's wreath completing,
Still half-strung are its petalled showers;
Must she wait all her dancing hours,
Wait in spite of her shy entreating,
Wait for ever her azure flowers?
P. R. CHALMERS.
Aug. 30, 1911.