Poem by Frederick Locker-Lampson

A Glimpse of Gretna Green, in the Distance

“My Kate, at the Waterloo column,
   To-morrow, precisely at eight;
Remember, thy promise was solemn,
   And—thine till to-morrow, my Kate!”

                * * * * *

That evening seem’d strangely to linger,
   The licence and luggage were packt,
And Time, with a long and short finger,
   Approvingly mark’d me exact.

Arrived, woman’s constancy blessing,
   No end of nice people I see,
Some hither, some thitherwards pressing,
   But none of them waiting for me.

Time passes, my watch how I con it,
   I see her—she’s coming—no, stuff!
Instead of Kate’s smart little bonnet,
   It is aunt and her wonderful muff!

(Yes! Fortune deserves to be chidden,
   It is a coincidence queer,
Whenever one wants to be hidden,
   One’s relatives always appear.)

Near nine! how the passers despise me,
   They smile at my anguish, I think;
And even the sentinel eyes me,
   And tips that policeman the wink.

Ah! Kate made me promises solemn,
   At eight she had vow’d to be mine;
While waiting for one at this column,
   I find I’ve been waiting for nine.

Fame! on thy pillar so steady,
   Some dupes watch beneath thee in vain:
How many have done it already!
   How many will do it again!

1. The Four Seasons
2. Circumstance
3. Miss Edith
4. The Widow’s Mite
5. A Sketch in Seven Dials

Print

1639 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version