Wilmington Daily Gazette

HAD YOU EVER A COUSIN, TOM:

And you ever a cousin. Tom?

Did your cousin happen to sing?

Sisters we've all by the dozen, Tom.

But a cousin's a different thing.

There's something in a sister's lip.

When you give her a good-night kiss,

That savors so much of relationship.

That nothing occurs amiss.

But a cousin's lip., if you once unite

With yours in the quietest way.

Instead of sleeping a wink that night.

You'll be dreaming the following day

No one thinks any harm, Tom.

With a cousin to see you talk.

And no one feels an alarm, Tom,

At a quiet cousinly walk.

But, Tom, you'll find out what I happen to know,

That such walks often grow into straying.

And the voices of cousins are sometimes so low

Heaven only knows what they are saying.

How again there happens so often. Tom,

Soft pressure of hands and of fingers.

And looks that are moulded to soften, Tom,

And tones on which memory lingers.

So that before the walk is half over, the springs

Of your heart are all called into play

By the voice of those fair, divine, sisterly things

In not quite the most brotherly way.

And the voice of a sister may bring to you, Tom

Such notes as the angels woo.

But I fear should your cousin sing to you, Tom.

You'd take her for an angel too,

For so curious a note is this note of theirs.

That you'd fancy the voice that gave it.

Was all the while singing the national airs.

Instead of the Psalms of David.

I once had a cousin that sang to me. Tom.

And her name shall be nameless now.

But the sound of that voice is still young. Tom.

Though we are no longer so,

Tis folly to dream of a lover of green,

When there's not a leaf on the tree.

But between singing and walking that cousin has

been

God forgive her—the ruin of me.