Page 79 - Poetry-Whimsy

My Great Aunt’s Portrait

I wonder if, some future day,
When looking on this cardboard square,
(My photograph), some girl will say,
(Some slim young maid with yellow hair).

“This is my great aunt, you know;
She lived, well I can scarcely tell
Just when, but awful long ago.
The picture’s taken very well; —

“I mean for those days; but oh, dear,
How quaint and funny it seems now;
And don’t her hair look very queer
Cut in a fringe across her brow?

“And, goodness me, how dreadful tight
Her sleeves are made; how choking high
Her collar is—so prim and white;
Just fancy now, if you and I

“Should dress like that? We’d scare the town!
It must have been the fashion then;
How did she get into that gown,
And how did she get out again?”

Oh, dear unknown, the years will play
The very same old pranks with you;
Some other merry girl will say,
When your sweet picture meets her view,

“This is my great great aunt, you know;
Born—well, I cannot tell the year,
But very, very long ago;
And doesn’t she look quaint and queer?”

—(Good Housekeeping)

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