On Fridays, until I run out, I post my poetry.
And what a boon it’d be to see again
Her face, in shades of laughter sweet, or in
Deep contemplation of our mutual task,
Her bangs, neglected, hanging o’er her brow,
Itself knit up, if prettily, in thought.
And when her eyes are in a downcast glance
And of herself in deprecating tones
(Too near unto despair) she speaks, why, then
It wounds the heart to see her face in gloom
And stirs desire to take up action swift
To lift her spirit and encourage her,
The doubting paragon of intellect.
I’m not sure when I wrote this poem; possibly it was my junior year of college, but probably quite a bit earlier. The second half or so of the poem is almost certainly strongly influenced by the story “Fairy Gifts”, which I read in Andrew Lang’s Green Fairy Book. I’m also posting this poem on my wiki. And, as always, I eagerly request and greatly appreciate your feedback of any kind (though the more substantial the better), including comments, questions, critique, or suggestions (especially of what to post next, since I’m running out of old material).