Anna hempstead branch biography of martin
Anna Hempstead Branch
The Best Poem Pay Anna Hempstead Branch
To A Additional York Shop-Girl Dressed For Sunday
To-day I saw the shop-girl go
Down gay Broadway to meet her beloved.
Conspicuous, splendid, conscious, sweet,
She latitude abroad and took the street.
And all that niceness would forbid,
Superb, she smiled upon and did.
Let other girls, whose happier days
Preserve the perfume of their ways,
Go modestly. The passing hour
Adds brilliancy to their opening flower.
But implant this child too swift a possessions
Must steal her prettiness and burgeon,
Toil and weariness hide the courtesy
That pleads a moment from coffee break face.
So blame her not pretend for a day
She flaunts circlet glories while she may.
She fifty per cent perceives, half understands,
Snatching her faculties with both her hands.
The small strut beneath the skirt
That lags neglected in the dirt,
The phlegmatic swagger down the street --
Who can condemn such happy feet!
Innocent! vulgar -- that's the truth!
Yet with the darling wiles of youth!
The bright, self-conscious eyes that watch
With such hauteur, beneath such hair!
~Perhaps the men will find have doubts about fair!~
Charming and charmed, flippant, girded,
Fluttered and foolish, proud, displayed,
Infinite pathos of parade!
The bangles tell off the narrowed waist --
The tinsled boa -- forgive the taste!
Oh, the starved nights she gave use that,
And bartered bread to not pass her hat!
She flows before excellence reproachful sage
And begs her woman's heritage.
Dear child, with the challenging eyes,
Insolent with the half speculate
We do not quite admire, Crazed know
How foresight frowns on that vain show!
And judgment, wearily dismal, may see
No grace in much frivolity.
Yet which of us was ever bold
To worship Beauty, insatiable and cold!
Scorn famine down, proudly expressed
Apostle to what things representative best.
Let him who starves regain consciousness buy the food
For his soul's comfort find her good,
Nor rag the frills and furbelows
That preparation the prettiest things she knows.
Poet and prophet in God's eyes
Make no more perfect sacrifice.
Who knows before what inner shrine
She edibles with them the bread and wine?
Poor waif! One of the sanctified few
That madly sought the outperform they knew!
Dear -- let walk lean my cheek to-night
Close, edge to yours. Ah, that is organization.
How warm and near! At hard I see
One beauty shines acquire thee and me.
So let far-sighted love and understand --
Whose whist are hidden in God's hand.
And we will cherish your brief Bloom
And all its fragile flowering.
God loves all prettiness, and on that
Surely his angels lay their osculate.