The River Falls Journal

Have Patience.

A youth and maid, one winter night,
Were sitting in the corner.
His name, we're told, was Joshua White,
And hers was Patience Warner,

Not much the pretty maiden said,
Beside the young man sitting;
Her cheeks were flushed a rosy red,
Her eyes bent on her knitting.

Nor could he guess what thoughts of him
Were to her bosom flocking,
As her fair fingers, swift and slim,
Flew round and round the stocking.

While, as for Joshua, bashful youth
His words grew few, and fewer;
Though all the time, to tell the truth,
His chair edged nearer to her,

Meantime her ball of yarn gave out,
She knit so fast and steady;
And he must give his aid, no doubt,
To get another ready.

He held the skein; of course the thread
Got tangled, snaggled, and twisted:
"Have Patience?" cried the artless maid,
To him who her assisted.

Good chance was this for tongue-tied churl
To shorten all palaver;
"Have Patience?" cried he "dearest girl
And may I really have her?"

The deed was done; no more, that night,
Clicked needles in the corner;
And she is Mrs. Joshua White,
That once was Patience Warner.