MABEL, IN NEW HAMPSHIRE
FAIREST of the fairest, rival of the rose,
That is Mabel of the Hills, as everybody knows.
Do you ask me near what stream this sweet floweret grows?
That’s an ignorant question, sir, as everybody knows.
Ask you what her age is, reckoned as time goes?
Just the age of beauty, as everybody knows.
Is she tall as Rosalind, standing on her toes?
She is just the perfect height, as everybody knows.
What’s the color of her eyes, when they ope or close?
Just the color they should be, as everybody knows.
Is she lovelier dancing, or resting in repose?
Both are radiant pictures, as everybody knows.
Do her ships go sailing on every wind that blows?
She is richer far than that, as everybody knows.
Has she scores of lovers, heaps of bleeding beaux?
That question’s quite superfluous, as everybody knows.
I could tell you something, if I only chose!—
But what’s the use of telling what everybody knows?
James Thomas Fields.
THE COQUETTE
A PORTRAIT
“YOU’RE clever at drawing, I own,”
Said my beautiful cousin Lisette,
As we sat by the window alone,
“But say, can you paint a Coquette?”
“She’s painted already,” quoth I;
“Nay, nay!” said the laughing Lisette,
“Now none of your joking—but try
And paint me a thorough Coquette.”
“Well, Cousin,” at once I began
In the ear of the eager Lisette,
“I’ll paint you as well as I can,
That wonderful thing, a Coquette.
“She wears a most beautiful face”
(“Of course,” said the pretty Lisette),
“And isn’t deficient in grace,
Or else she were not a Coquette.
“And then she is daintily made”
(A smile from the dainty Lisette)
“By people expert in the trade
“She’s the winningest ways with the beaux”
(“Go on!” said the winning Lisette),
“But there isn’t a man of them knows
The mind of the fickle Coquette!
“She knows how to weep and to sigh”
(A sigh from the tender Lisette),
“But her weeping is all in my eye—
Not that of the cunning Coquette!
“In short, she’s a creature of art”
(“Oh, hush!” said the frowning Lisette),
“With merely the ghost of a heart—
Enough for a thorough Coquette.
“And yet I could easily prove”
(“Now don’t!” said the angry Lisette),
“The lady is always in love—
In love with herself—the Coquette!
“There—do not be angry—you know,
My dear little Cousin Lisette,
You told me a moment ago,
To paint you—a thorough Coquette!”
John Godfrey Saxe.