Page 60 - Poetry-Romance

The Postman: St.Valentine’s Day

How fast the postman goes
Laden with joys and woes
Along the street!
Young eyes watch with delight;
Eyes not so young, with quite
As quick pulse-beat.

He carries painted hearts
Transfixed with harmless darts;
Live hearts too hide
Stowed in his swinging bag
And doubtless make it wag
From side to side.

Here, prayer of parted friends
And shaft that malice sends
Elbow for space;
The pang that hurts and stings,
The balm that healing brings,
Run equal race.

A scentless rose, a verse
That hardly could be worse,
A soul’s despair,
A tear blot, and a jest,
A happy love confessed,
A laugh, a prayer!

Is he a man or elf?
Pandora’s box itself
Could scarce send wide
Such motley crowd and fleet,
Save that gifts fair and sweet
Its ills divide!

Bird-like, he mounts and swoops
Swift up and down the stoops;
He’s drawing near.
Though I may moralize,

~ 58 ~