Two of a Kind

H. W. Banks, in “The Williams’ Argo”

SOFTLY the evening breezes

Blew through the leaves overhead,

And the fireflies flashed like diamonds,

The robins had gone to bed.

And there, in the gathering twilight,

Swinging listlessly to and fro,

With one little foot just moving

To make the hammock go,

She seemed to my loving spirit

Like some mystical maiden of old,

With the eyes shining soft in the starlight,

And her tresses like beaten gold.

And I sat at her feet adoring,

Not daring a word to say,

Lest the beautiful charm should be broken,

And the vision should vanish away.

But I longed to be sitting beside her,

And pour in her listening ear

The words which burned in my bosom,

And her whispered answer to hear.

“Fair maid, I beseech thee, tell me,

Is there room enough for two

To sit and swing in the hammock,

Should I come and swing with you?”

In her eyes burned a softer radiance,

And gently her head inclined,

As she murmured, “Oh, yes, thrice plenty,

But only for two of a kind.”