The Newcomer’s Wife
He paused on the sill of a door ajarThat screened a lively liquor-bar,For the name had reached him through the doorOf her he had married the week before.
“We called her the Hack of the Parade;But she was discreet in the games she played;If slightly worn, she’s pretty yet,And gossips, after all, forget.
“And he knows nothing of her past;I am glad the girl’s in luck at last;Such ones, though stale to native eyes,Newcomers snatch at as a prize.”
“Yes, being a stranger he sees her blentOf all that’s fresh and innocent,Nor dreams how many a love-campaignShe had enjoyed before his reign!”
That night there was the splash of a fallOver the slimy harbour-wall:They searched, and at the deepest placeFound him with crabs upon his face.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.