In the Park
Helen Hoyt
1887 to 1972
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He whistled soft whistlings I knew were for me,
Teasing, endearing.
Won’t you look? was what they said,
But did not turn my head.
(Only a little I my hearing.)
My feet took me by;
Straight evenly they went:
As if they had not dreamed he meant:
As if such a curiosity
Never were since the world began
As woman wanting man!
My led me past and took me away;
And yet was my heart that wanted to stay.