Life, 1886-07-22 · page 3 of 16
Life — July 22, 1886 — page 3: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "Last Summer" - Analysis This page from *Life* magazine presents a romantic narrative poem titled "Last Summer" with accompanying illustrations. The story describes a male narrator's summer romance with a young woman named Dolly Plummer, aged sixteen. The poem recounts how the narrator fell in love with Dolly, who was initially receptive but whose cousins—Mary, Mildred Cary, and others—mocked her as "fresh" and "green." Their taunting apparently discouraged the romance. The narrator confesses his feelings were genuine ("I must admit 'twas bitter / I must confess 'twas mean"), expressing regret about how peer pressure and social judgment interfered with their budding relationship. The illustrations show young people in Victorian-era clothing in various seaside scenes, depicting the social dynamics and romantic disappointment described in the verse.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ER ways were so confiding (Her age was just sixteen), Now rapturous, now chiding, Now captious as a queen. Her frocks were still so simple, Her mouth so arched and ripe, To rouse her lurking dimple I often left my pipe. One day I caught her weeping Alone, upon the rocks ; She heard my step and, peeping Through clouds of tangled locks, Avowed she had a sorrow And that the briny wave, Quite likely, on the morrow, Would roll above her grave. I moved a little nearer, It seemed to bring relief ; Her dewy eyes grew clearer, I begged to share her grief. Her dimple was in hiding, Her lips still wore a pout, But soon she grew confiding, And then it all came out :— It seemed that Dolly Plummer And Maud, the doctor’s niece, Had scored, that very summer, Proposals, two apiece. And, then, her cousin Mary, That red-haired little thing, And quiet Mildred Cary, Each wore a diamond ring. And when the girls demanded, In such a spiteful way, What fish er net had landed. She’d not a word to say. ’T was mean of them to twit her ; They called her “fresh” and “ green "— I must admit ’t was bitter, I must confess ’t was mean, Her eyebrows were so artless— So innocent her nose— I had been more than heartless Not straightway to propose. I'd no idea she would n't, She beamed so thro’ her curls ; “Oh! no,” she said, she could n’t, But—might she tell the girls? comicbooks.com