Page 45 - Poetry-Romance
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Bessie Brown, MD

               ‘Twas April when she came to town;
                   The birds had come, the bees were swarming.
               Her name, she said, was Doctor Brown:
                   I saw at once that she was charming.
               She took a cottage tinted green,
                   Where dewy roses loved to mingle;
               And on the door, next day, was seen
                       A dainty little shingle.

               Her hair was like an amber wreath;
                   Her hat was darker, to enhance it.
               The violet eyes that glowed beneath
                   Were brighter than her keenest lancet.
               The beauties of her glove and gown
                   The sweetest rhyme would fail to utter.
               Ere she had been a day in town
                       The town was in a flutter.

               The gallants viewed her feet and hands,
                   And swore they never saw such wee things;
               The gossips met in purring bands
                   And tore her piecemeal o’er the tea-things.
               The former drank the Doctor’s health
                   With clinking cups, the gay carousers;
               The latter watched her door by stealth,
                       Just like so many mousers,

               But Doctor Bessie went her way
                   Unmindful of the spiteful cronies,
               And drove her buggy every day
                   Behind a dashing pair of ponies.
               Her flower-like face so bright she bore,
                   I hoped that time might never wilt her.
               The way she tripped across the floor
                       Was better than a philter.

               Her patients thronged the village street;
                   Her snowy slate was always quite full.
               Some said her bitters tasted sweet;


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