IX.

Yesterday I watched you when you set There with your little lunch-box in your lap; I seen you nibble at a ginger snap, And wished that where your lips had made it wet I'd have a chance to take a bite and let My mouth be right where yours was before; And after you had got your apple e't, And wasn't lookin', I picked up the core.

I pressed my mouth against it then, and so It seemed almost the same as kissin' you, Your teeth had touched it, and your red lips, too, And it was good and tasted sweet, and, oh, I wished you'd bring an apple every day And I could have the cores you'd throw away.