Isn't this the sweetest thing?
Be My Valentine
"Be My Valentine" it said,
Upon the arrowed heart of red,
With its frill of paper lace,
Offered her with awkward grace.
He longed with tender words to show
He'd like to be her steady beau,
But all that he could do he found,
Was voice a muttered, stuttering sound.
Tubbed and scrubbed and polished neat,
From his cowlick to his feet,
He stood before her, heart in hand,
Trying to make her understand.
No words of love had she to say
Before she laughed and walked away.
For she was only half past four
And he was only one year more.
--Alice B. Johnson