MRS. SMITH.
Last year I trod these fields with Di,
And that's the simple reason why
They now seem arid:
Then Di was fair and single—how
Unfair it seems on me—for now
Di's fair, and married.
In bliss we roved. I scorned the song
Which says that though young Love is strong
The Fates are stronger:
Then breezes blew a boon to men—
Then buttercups were bright—and then
This grass was longer.
That day I saw, and much esteemed
Di's ankles—which the clover seemed
Inclined to smother:
It twitched, and soon untied (for fun)
The ribbons of her shoes—first one,
And then the other.
'Tis said that virgins augur some
Misfortune if their shoestrings come
To grief on Friday:
And so did Di—and so her pride
Decreed that shoestrings so untied,
"Are so untidy!"
Of course I knelt—with fingers deft
I tied the right, and then the left:
Says Di—"This stubble
Is very stupid—as I live
I'm shocked—I'm quite ashamed to give
You so much trouble."
For answer I was fain to sink
To what most swains would say and think
Were Beauty present:
"Don't mention such a simple act—
A trouble? not the least. In fact
It's rather pleasant."
I trust that love will never tease
Poor little Di, or prove that he's
A graceless rover.
She's happy now as Mrs. Smith—
But less polite when walking with
Her chosen lover.
Heigh-ho! Although no moral clings
To Di's soft eyes, and sandal strings,
We've had our quarrels!—
I think that Smith is thought an ass,
I know that when they walk in grass
She wears balmorals.