Her best beloved went away,
to where, she did not know
he stole her heart and took it far,
and she in sorrow said, “you are
a wicked Romeo.”
she then devised a cunning scheme
to pay him back in kind
she sought for hire an older maid
and then in secrecy she bade
her bear this thought in mind:
“Pretend,” said she, “that you are me
some forty years ahead,
and when returns my beamish beau,
you tell him ‘Sir, you ought to know,
those olden days are dead.’
‘Whilst you were scheming on your own,
a time-warp did ensue,
and this poor lady you behold,
though you are young and I am old,
is still your lady true.’
‘I’ve waited forty years for my
beloved to return,
but if you do not care for me,
then at long last you may be free,
regardless that I yearn.’”
And thus the older lady spoke
to one besotted ear
now with a sorrow in his heart
that he had ever thought to part
himself from one so dear.
He said, “My lady, I will find
a way to change the past.
I’ll stop myself from leaving you
so you may see my heart is true
and marry me at last.”
The ancient one perceived at once
a spirit still devout
but she omitted to admit
that it was proved, and she could quit
parading thus about.
Until one night her conscience grew
a conscience of its own
it bade her tell the truth to she
who took her as an employee:
the lady, now alone.
“My dear,” she said, “your suitor loves you still,
and so do I,
since on that happy summer morn
when I was young and you were born
amidst our lullaby.”
The happy couple, man and wife,
and now the mother too,
who thought lost long ago, in truth,
is now a living, breathing proof,
that love may start anew.
