English poem
THE FORERUNNERS.
by Norman Gale (1862–1942)
Beside the pillar-box a girl Sells daffodils in golden bunches, And with an apron full of Spring Stays men a moment from their lunches: Some fill their hands for love of bloom, To others Cupid hints a reason; But as for me, I buy because The flowers suggest the Cricket season!
Although I trouble not to seek A maiden proud to wear my favour, Right glad am I to change my pence For blooms, and smell their wholesome savour; For as I carry blossoms home— Sisters of gold with golden sisters— My heart is thumping at the thought Of pads and bails and slow leg-twisters.
My only sweetheart is a bag— A faithful girl of dark brown leather, Who's travelled many a mile with me In half a hundred sorts of weather! Once more to clasp your friendly hand, To tramp along by Hope attended, Dreaming of glances, drives, and cuts, My Dear Old Girl, how truly splendid!