Edgar Albert Guest

20 August 1881 - 5 August 1959 / Birmingham / England

After A Proposal

IS IT so sudden? Then did you believe, dear,
Those evenings I called at your flat
And lovingly, longingly gazed in your eyes,
That I merely had come for a chat?
Did it strike you the times that I lingered till twelve
And hated to leave you alone,
I was doing that merely to fill up my time,
Because I 'd no home of my own?

So sudden, you say? Yet for years I have stood
On your doorstep each evening at eight.
Did you think I had come for a chat with your ma,
Or a word with your maiden aunt, Kate?
Did you think, when I sighed as I fondled your hand,
'T was dyspepsia that troubled me then?
Or that the cigars I bestowed on your dad
Were smokes I would give to all men?

O, the tickets for shows I have purchased for you,
The automobiles I have hired!
The lockets and bracelets and purses and things,
All gifts that I knew you desired,
That I tenderly laid at your feet, as a shrine,
Though each cost me a half a week's pay!
I thought that my actions betrayed my design,
And yet, 'It's so sudden,' you say.
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