She is Overheard Singing

Oh, Prue she has a patient man,
    And Joan a gentle lover,
  And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,--
    But my true love’s a rover!

  Mig, her man’s as good as cheese
    And honest as a briar,
  Sue tells her love what he’s thinking of,--
    But my dear lad’s a liar!

  Oh, Sue and Prue and Agatha
    Are thick with Mig and Joan!
  They bite their threads and shake their heads
    And gnaw my name like a bone;

  And Prue says, “Mine’s a patient man,
    As never snaps me up,”
  And Agatha, “Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,
    Could live content in a cup;”

  Sue’s man’s mind is like good jell--
    All one colour, and clear--
  And Mig’s no call to think at all
    What’s to come next year,

  While Joan makes boast of a gentle lad,
    That’s troubled with that and this;--
  But they all would give the life they live
    For a look from the man I kiss!

  Cold he slants his eyes about,
    And few enough’s his choice,--
  Though he’d slip me clean for a nun, or a queen,
    Or a beggar with knots in her voice,--

  And Agatha will turn awake
    When her good man sleeps sound,
  And Mig and Sue and Joan and Prue
    Will hear the clock strike round;

  For Prue she has a patient man,
    As asks not when or why,
  And Mig and Sue have naught to do
    But peep who’s passing by,

  Joan is paired with a putterer
    That bastes and tastes and salts,
  And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,--
    But my true love is false!

        Edna St. Vincent Millay