IN FOR IT

I ROSE betimes, and donned a suit

Of clothes, whose fit immaculate

Was not a question for dispute,

Whose cut was far above debate.

I breakfasted, or rather tried,

But strange my appetite behaving,

A., B. and S. alone supplied

My feeble craving.

I fidgeted about the place,

I smoothed my hat some twenty times,

I almost cursed the clock’s slow pace

And listened for the neighb’ring chimes—

I stretched my gloves—they were a pair

Of lemon kids, extremely “fetching”;

And so I used peculiar care

About the stretching.

’Twas past eleven when my friend

Arrived, and took me ’neath his wing,

For he had promised to attend

Upon me kindly, and “to bring

Me smiling to the scratch,” as he

Was pleased to term it, being merry,

’Twas quite another thing with me;

’Twas diff’rent, very.

We drove to Church, and there I found

Myself the object of each gaze;

I hardly dared to look around,

I felt completely in a maze—

We had to wait, I dropped my hat,

Then split a glove in very flurry,

Grew hot, and wished devoutly that

The rest would hurry.

When all was o’er, we had to face

A grinning crowd’s rude gaping stare,

I strove to don unconscious grace,

And look as if I didn’t care—

We braved it out, got home, and then

There came a plethora of kissin’:

Of course I took good care the men

Did not join this in.

We next were victims of a meal,

A melancholy sad pretence,

And I thereat was made to feel

How hard it is to utter sense:

The carriage came at last, and we

For not a single moment tarried,

And driving off, it dawned on me

That I was married.

Somerville Gibney.