Her Promise

I quit the dusty way,

Where the elms uniting sway

Just above;

In deeper shadow there

Stands the form, so dainty fair,

Of my love.

To me, the laughing face,

With the most bewitching grace,

Lightly trips.

I look, pause, reassure,

Ere I lift a face so pure

To my lips.

She says, with smile divine,

On her birthday she'll be mine

Evermore.

She presses close to tell

Me her age; it is-ah, well!

Only four.

Walter Seager Sullivan

Index to poems in the collection by Walter Seager Sullivan