Explore "Little Mistress Sans-Merci" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Little Mistress Sans-Merci / Fareth world-wide, fancy free: / Trotteth cooing to and fro, / And her cooing is command -- / Never ruled there yet, I trow, / Mightier despot in the land.
And my heart it lieth where / Mistress Sans-Merci doth fare.
Little Mistress Sans-Merci -- / She hath made a slave of me! / "Go," she biddeth, and I go -- / "Come," and I am fain to come -- / Never mercy doth she show, / Be she wroth or frolicsome, / Yet am I content to be / Slave to Mistress Sans-Merci!
Little Mistress Sans-Merci / Hath become so dear to me / That I count as passing sweet / All the pain her moods impart, / And I bless the little feet / That go trampling on my heart: / Ah, how lonely life would be / But for little Sans-Merci!
Little Mistress Sans-Merci, / Cuddle close this night to me, / And the heart, which all day long / Ruthless thou hast trod upon, / Shall outpour a soothing song / For its best belovéd one -- / All its tenderness for thee, / Little Mistress Sans-Merci!