What Miss Edith Saw from Her Window
By Bret Harte (Francis)
Our windows not much, though it fronts on the street;
Theres a fly in the pane that gets nothin to eat;
But its curious how people think its a treat
For me to look out of the window!
Why, when company comes, and theyre all speaking low,
With their chairs drawn together, then some one says, Oh!
Edith dear! thats a good child now run, love, and go
And amuse yourself there at the window!
Or Bob thats my brother comes in with his chum,
And they whisper and chuckle, the same words will come.
And its Edith, look here! Oh, I say! what a rum
Lot of things you can see from that window!
And yet, as I told you, theres only that fly
Buzzing round in the pane, and a bit of blue sky,
And the girl in the opposite window, that I
Look at when she looks from her window.
And yet, Ive been thinking Id so like to see
If what goes on behind her, goes on behind me!
And then, goodness gracious! what fun it would be
For us both as we sit by our window!
How wed know when the parcels were hid in a drawer,
Or things taken out that one never sees more;
What people come in and go out of the door,
That we never see from the window!
And that night when the stranger came home with our Jane
I might see what I heard then, that sounded so plain
Like when my wet fingers I rub on the pane
(Which they wont let me do on my window).
And Id know why papa shut the door with a slam,
And said something funny that sounded like jam,
And then Edith where are you? I said, Here I am.
Ah, thats right, dear, look out of the window!
They say when Im grown up these things will appear
More plain than they do when I look at them here,
But I think I see some things uncommonly clear,
As I sit and look down from the window.
What things? Oh, the things that I make up, you know,
Out of stories Ive read and they all pass below.
Ali Baba, the Forty Thieves, all in a row,
Go by, as I look from my window.
Thats only at church time; other days theres no crowd.
Dont laugh! See that big man who looked up and bowed?
Thats our butcher I call him the Sultan Mahoud
When he nods to me here at the window!
And that man hes our neighbor just gone for a ride
Has three wives in the churchyard that lie side by side.
So I call him Bluebeard in search of his bride,
While Im Sister Anne at the window.
And what do I call you? Well, heres what I do:
When my sister expects you, she puts me here, too;
But I wait till you enter, to see if its you,
And then I just open the window!
Dear child! Yes, thats me! Oh, you ask what thats for?
Well, Papa says youre Povertys self, and whats more,
I open the window, when youre at the door,
To see Love fly out of the window!