Good are the mornings for birds in a nest,
Fluttering out from a beautiful home;
Good are the mornings, but evenings are best,
Seeking its shelter nor asking to roam.
Life, like a secret, is too much for one—
May be too little where numbers are great—
All may be vanity under the sun,
But all is charming when done tête à tête.
Neighbours will call—what a trouble it is!
Dinners and parties are made for our sake: