Poem+National Pet Day

 

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Poem April 11:

Maiden Lane By Louise Morgan Sill 1917.

Down Maiden Lane, where clover grew,  

  Sweet-scented in the early air,  

Where sparkling rills went shining through  

  Their grassy banks, so green, so fair,  

Blithe little maids from Holland land

  Went tripping, laughing each to each,  

To bathe the flax, or spread a band  

  Of linen in the sun to bleach.  

More than two centuries ago  

  They wore this path—a maiden's lane—

Where now such waves of commerce flow  

  As never dazed a burgher's brain.  

Two hundred years ago and more  

  Those thrifty damsels, one by one,  

With plump, round arms their linen bore

  To dry in Mana-ha-ta's sun.  

But now! Behold the altered view;  

  No tender sward, no bubbling stream,  

No laughter,—was it really true,  

  Or but the fancy of a dream?

Were these harsh walls a byway sweet,  

  This floor of stone a grassy plain?  

Pray vanish, modern city street,  

  And let us stroll down Maiden Lane.

Source: https://poets.org/poem/maiden-lane