C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Cora Fabbri (1871–1892)

I WONDER, in those dear old days departed,

Whose was the foot that wore this tiny shoe;—

A slipper just as small as Cinderella’s,

But not of glass—of faded satin blue.

I’ll say it was a princess, tall and stately,

And rather haughty, but not overmuch.

I see her walking through her garden alleys:

How rose-hearts beat to feel that light foot’s touch!

I see her treading through her row of pages,

That small foot lifted high with haughty grace;

A knight beside her, whispering tender speeches,—

She hears them all, with silent, downcast face.

I see her in the dazzling ball-room stepping

Through stately minuet or swifter dance,

Her small foot slipping through her rich robes sweeping,

Or even not perceived—divined, perchance.

How many knights adored you, little slipper,

And knelt before you—fine and fair and blue!

How many you have fled from—too bold suitors!

How many hearts you’ve trod on, tiny shoe!