Supplicating.

A poem by Hattie Howard

One morn I looked across the way,
And saw you fling your window wide
To welcome in the breath of May
In breezes from the mountain-side,
And greet the sunlight's earliest ray
With happy look and satisfied.

The pansies on your window-sill
In terra cotta flowerpot,
Like royal gold and purple frill
Upon the stony casement wrought,
Adorned your tasteful domicile
And claimed your time and care and thought.

In cherry trees the robins sang
Their sweetest carol to your ear,
And shouts of merry children rang
Out on the dewy atmosphere,
But to my heart there came a pang
That my salute you did not hear.

I envied then the favored breeze
That dallied with your flowing hair,
Begrudged the songsters in the trees
And longed to be a flow'ret fair -
Some favorite blossom like heartease -
Within your miniature parterre.

O heart, that finds such ample room
Within thy confines broad and true,
For song and sunshine and perfume
And all benign impulses - go,
I pray thee, dissipate my gloom -
And take in thy petitioner too!

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