Classic Poem

Another fowl had gone the way
That turkeys go, Thanksgiving Day;

In ruins lay the pumpkin pie,
The foaming cider-jug was dry.

The merry guests had left their chairs,
The old in groups, the young in pairs,

And Mark and Prue (if one might look)
Were safe within the ingle-nook.

And Mark and Prue agreed to break
A wishbone, just for friendship's sake —

A wishbone, smooth and polished bright
As best befits the magic rite.

Each wished a wish in undertone;
With thumbs close-pressed they snapped the bone —

And none but Mark heard Prudence laugh
Because she held the larger half;

And only Prudence knew how dark
And hopeless grew the face of Mark.

" Why, Mark! " cried Prue; " since Time began
Who ever saw a six-foot man

" Become so glum and vaporish
Because he'd lost a silly wish! "

" Yes, laugh! " groaned Mark, " for you have won!
I've lost all joy beneath the sun

" And all the hope I had in life —
I wished that Prue should be my wife. "

She frowned, and then she smiled instead,
And then she tossed her curly head

And laughed outright, that shameless Prue,
" Oh, never mind! I wished that, too! "