Revenge.

A poem by Hattie Howard

Beside my window day and night,
Its tendrils reaching left and right,
A morning glory grew;
With blossoms covered, pink and white
And deep, delicious blue.

Its care became my daily thought,
Who to the sweet diversion brought
A bit of florist skill
To guide its progress, till it caught
The meaning of my will.

When through the trellis in and out
It bent and turned and climbed about
And so ambitious grew,
O'erleaped a chasm beyond the spout
Where raindrops trickled through,

Then, in caressing, graceful way,
Around a door knob twined one day
With modest show of pride;
All unaware that danger lay
Just on the other side.

An awkward, verdant "maid of work,"
Who dearly loved her tasks to shirk,
While rummaging among
Unused apartments, with a jerk
The door wide open flung.

And lo! there lay, uprooted quite,
The object of my heart's delight -
I did not weep or rant,
And yet a grain or two of spite
My secret thoughts would haunt.

So when at night her favorite beau
Beside his charmer sat below -
That is, dans le cuisine -
Occurred, as all the neighbors know,
A semi-tragic scene.

The garden hose, obscured from view,
Turned on itself and drenched the two -
A hapless circumstance
That lengthened out her "frizzes" new,
But shrunk his Sunday pants.

Remember this was years agone -
The madcap now hath sober grown
And hose is better wrought,
And neither now would run alone
The risk of being caught.

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