Volume 10 — A CAVALIER'S VALENTINE
Reading edition
(1644)
BY CLINTON SCOLLARD
The sky was like a mountain mere, The lilac buds were brown, What time a war-worn cavalier Rode into Taunton-town. He sighed and shook his head forlorn; "A sorry lot is mine," He said, "who have this merry morn Pale Want for Valentine." His eyes, like heather-bells at dawn, Were blue and brave and bold; Against his cheeks, now wan and drawn, His love-locks tossed their gold. And as he rode, beyond a wall With ivy overrun, His glance upon a maid did fall, A-sewing in the sun. As sweet was she as wilding thyme, A boon, a bliss, a grace: It made the heart blood beat in rhyme To look upon her face. He bowed him low in courtesy, To her deep marvelling; "Fair Mistress Puritan," said he, "It is forward spring." As when the sea-shell flush of morn Throws night in rose eclipse, So sunshine smiles, that instant born, Brought brightness to her lips; Her voice was modest, yet, forsooth, It had a roguish ring; "You, sir, of all should know that truth— It is a forward spring!"