by Candace Barrick, Becketwood Member
I recently found this poem with my great-grandfather's (Nimrod Barrick) papers. It was not dated or signed and I could not determine who wrote it. He married his wife in 1873, so the poem was written before that time.
No, Nim, I will not marry,
For if I did, ah me!
Within a few brief weeks, alas!
How different all would be!
Now you're my slave and lover, too
You watch with eager glances,
And follow me with eager steps
Throughout the many dances.
You'll carry now my cloak and flowers,
And even bear my fan;
But for fidelity - alas!
It resteth not with man.
For now you deem I faultless am,
And I think you perfection -
Say, should I not retract such thoughts,
If you enforced subjection.
You might grow cross and feverish, too,
And I prove cold and proud.
My gentle voice you often praised,
Age might make harsh and loud.
My bright blue eyes might dim with tears.
You whiskers all turn gray,
And poverty might peek at us,
And love might fly away.
So, Nim, I nev'r will marry,
For if I do - ah me!
Within a few short weeks, alas!
How altered all would be!