Page 37 - Poetry-Whimsy

In the Gloaming

In the gloaming, O my darlings,
When are hearts are sinking low,
When our mouths are wide with yawning,
And our backs are aching so;
When the thought of painting longer
Fills us with an untold woe,
How we think of tea, and love it,
While the shadows deeper grow!

In the gloaming, O my darlings,
We think tenderly of tea,
Till our hearts are crushed with longing
Round our steaming cups to be.
(It is only green in mem’ry,
And at times—’twixt you and me—
A malignant grocer sends us
An inferior bohea.)

In the gloaming, O my darlings,
When our hearts are sinking low,
When are mouths are wide with yawning,
And our backs are aching so,
Will the tea be weak? we wonder
(What has been again may be);
But perhaps ‘tis best for us, dears—
Best for you and best for me.

— Helen Marion Burnside (Girl’s Own Paper, 1884)

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