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Poem by Norman Rowland Gale The Forerunners Beside the pillar-box a girl Sells daffodils in golden bunches, And with an apron full of Spring Stays men a moment from their lunches: Some fill their hands for love of bloom, To others Cupid hints a reason; But as for me, I buy because The flowers suggest the Cricket season! Although I trouble not to seek A maiden proud to wear my favour, Right glad am I to change my pence For blooms, and smell their wholesome savour; For as I carry blossoms home-- Sisters of gold with golden sisters-- My heart is thumping at the thought Of pads and bails and slow leg-twisters. My only sweetheart is a bag-- A faithful girl of dark brown leather, Who's travelled many a mile with me In half a hundred sorts of weather! Once more to clasp your friendly hand, To tramp along by Hope attended, Dreaming of glances, drives, and cuts, My Dear Old Girl, how truly splendid! Norman Rowland Gale Norman Rowland Gale's other poems: 1255 Views |
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