The Second-Hand GownA Poem by David Lewis PagetHe wandered along old Codshill Street, Quite late on that Christmas Eve, And scanned the used haberdashery Society ladies would leave, The hats they’d worn, but only the once, The boots with barely a scuff, The poplin prints they hadn’t worn since, A single dance was enough. He stood outside in his working boots The ones he wore at the mill, He hadn’t had time to change himself He should have been working still. But in his pocket he clutched the pound He’d saved for many a day, He’d squirrelled each shilling away for months Out of his meagre pay. And all he could see was Mirabelle, Who lodged at his heart and eye, She worked upstairs in the counting room Above where the shuttles fly, And he would glimpse her once in a while Pottering to and fro, Dressed in a worn and paltry frock Where the stitching was letting go. He’d wait outside, and follow her home To see she was safe and sound, The rogues that he’d meet in Codshill Street Would keep their eyes on the ground. While she was aware of his loving gaze And sometimes gave him a smile, Others were bold in their loving ways And pressed their court for a while. And so it was on this Christmas Eve That a Squire had stood at her door, With a string of pearls you wouldn’t believe He’d bought in a jeweller’s store, And she was flushed as she let him in, So pleased to have such a gift, For she was only a working girl And his interest gave her a lift. But there in the haberdashery In a window, stood at the side, Was standing a model, dressed entire In a gown so fine, he’d cried. He thought he could see his Mirabelle In place of the mannequin, In the gown of grey crushed velvet, so In a moment then, went in. ‘You know that the gown is second-hand,’ The girl explained to his stare, ‘Here are a couple of tiny stains, And there is a little tear. But this, that once cost a hundred pounds Is a bargain now for a cause, If you can give me a single pound This lovely gown can be yours.’ She placed the gown in a long flat box, And tied a ribbon around, Then he flew out to his Mirabelle In hopes she still could be found. He saw the pearls were around her neck When she had opened the door, But once she pulled out the gown, she checked, And dropped the pearls on the floor. Her kiss was sweet on that Christmas Eve, Though he had showed her the stains, The tears she shed on that gorgeous thread He said, were like summer rains, She had no time for the wealthy Squire, She’d waited for him all along, Her greatest gift was a second-hand gown With the love that the gown came from. David Lewis Paget
© 2015 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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15 Reviews Added on December 24, 2015 Last Updated on December 24, 2015 Tags: Eve, haberdashery, mill, shuttle Author
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