BOOTS OF SIZE.
Take them up tenderly,
Lift them with care,
Fashioned so slenderly
"Twelves" never were.
Touch them not scornfully,
Think of her mournfully
Who has to bear them.
Think of the pains of her—
All that remains of her
Save what will wear them.
How were her father's feet?
How were her mother's?
How were her sister's feet?
How were her brother's?
What had the maiden done
That she should merit it?
Was it a judgment?
Or did she inherit it?
Alas for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!
Oh, it is pitiful,
From a whole city full
Praise she has none.
Sisterly, brotherly,
Fatherly, motherly
Feelings are changed;
Love goes with "pettitoes,"
"Tootsie" and "pootsie" nose
Ever from feet like those
Turning estranged.
Never the ballroom
(Save she had all room)
Could she be daring;
And if at croquet seen,
"Gracious! that huge bottine,"
People would cry or mean,
Dreadfully staring!
The bleak winds of March
Made her tremble and shiver;
Clothes raised in arch
Her huge "trotters" dis-kiver.
Oh, then, from scrutiny,
Comment or rootin' eye,
Swift to be hurl'd,
Anywhere, anywhere,
Out of the world.
Take them up tenderly,
Lift them with care,
Fashioned more slenderly
Buckets ne'er were.
Scraps, 1884