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1850–1919

AT AN OLD DRAWER.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Before this scarf was faded, What hours of mirth it knew! How gaily it paraded For smiling eyes to view!

The days were tinged with glory, The nights too quickly sped, And life was like a story Where all the people wed.

Before this rosebud wilted, How passionately sweet The wild waltz swelled and lilted In time for flying feet!

How loud the bassoons muttered! The horns grew madly shrill; And, oh, the vows lips uttered That hearts could not fulfill.

Before this fan was broken, Behind its lace and pearl What whispered words were spoken — What hearts were in a whirl!

What homesteads were selected In Fancy’ s realm of Spain! What castles were erected, Without a room for pain!

When this odd glove was mated, How thrilling seemed the play! May be our hearts are sated — They tire so soon to-day.

Oh, shut away those treasures, They speak the dreary truth — We have outgrown the pleasures And keen delights of youth.

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AT AN OLD DRAWER. · Ella Wheeler Wilcox · Poetry Cove