Woke with a kiss the Princess,
And broke enchantment's chain,
The sleepy old castle wondered,
In its cobweb-cumbered brain,
At the tide of life and pleasure
That poured through each stony vein.
And so love conquered an evil
Centuries old in might,
Scattering drowsy glamour,
Piercing the murky night,
Leading from thrall and darkness
Beauty, and joy, and light.
EASTER MORNING.
Too early, of course! How provoking!
I told Ma just how it would be.
I might as well have on a wrapper,
For there isn't a soul here to see.
There! Sue Delaplaine's pew is empty,—
I declare if it isn't too bad!
I know my suit cost more than hers did,
And I wanted to see her look mad.
I do think that sexton's too stupid—
He's put some one else in our pew—
And the girl's dress just kills mine completely;
Now what am I going to do?
The psalter, and Sue isn't here yet!
I don't care, I think it's a sin
For people to get late to service,
Just to make a great show coming in.
Perhaps she is sick, and can't get here—
She said she'd a headache last night.
How mad she'll be after her fussing!
I declare, it would serve her just right.
Oh, you've got here at last, my dear, have you?
Well, I don't think you need be so proud
Of that bonnet, if Virot did make it,
It's horrid fast-looking and loud.
What a dress!—for a girl in her senses
To go on the street in light blue!—
And those coat-sleeves—they wore them last Summer—
Don't doubt, though, that she thinks they're new.
Mrs. Gray's polonaise was imported—
So dreadful!—a minister's wife,
And thinking so much about fashion!—
A pretty example of life!
The altar's dressed sweetly. I wonder
Who sent those white flowers for the font!—
Some girl who's gone on the assistant—
Don't doubt it was Bessie Lamont.
Just look at her now, little humbug!—
So devout—I suppose she don't know
That she's bending her head too far over,
And the ends of her switches all show.
What a sight Mrs. Ward is this morning!
That woman will kill me some day.
With her horrible lilacs and crimsons;
Why will these old things dress so gay?
And there's Jenny Welles with Fred. Tracy—
She's engaged to him now—horrid thing!
Dear me! I'd keep on my glove sometimes,
If I did have a solitaire ring!
How can this girl next to me act so—
The way that she turns round and stares,
And then makes remarks about people;
She'd better be saying her prayers.
Oh dear, what a dreadful long sermon!
He must love to hear himself talk!
And it's after twelve now,—how provoking!
I wanted to have a nice walk.
Through at last. Well it isn't so dreadful
After all, for we don't dine till one;
How can people say church is poky!—
So wicked!—I think it's real fun.
A LEGEND OF ST. VALENTINE.
Come! Why, halloa, that you, Jack?
How's the world been using you?
Want your pipe? it's in the jar—
Think I might be looking blue.
Maud's been breaking off with me,
Fact—see here—I've got the ring.
That's the note she sent it in;
Read it—soothing sort of thing.
Jack, you know I write sometimes—
Must have read some things of mine.
Well, I thought I'd just send Maud
Something for a valentine.
So I ground some verses out
In the softest kind of style,
Full of love, and that, you know—
Bothered me an awful while;
Quite a heavy piece of work.
So when I had got them done—
Why, I thought them much too good
Just to waste that way on one.
Jack, I told you, didn't I,
All about that black-eyed girl
Up in Stratford—last July—
Oh! you know; you saw her curl?
Well, old fellow, she's the one
That this row is all about,
For I sent her—who'd have thought
Maud would ever find it out—
Those same verses, word for word—
Hang it, man! you needn't roar—
"Splendid joke!" well, so I thought—
No, don't think so any more.
Yesterday, you know it rained,
I'd been up late—at a ball—
Didn't know what else to do—
Went up and made Maud a call,
Found some other girl there, too,
They were playing a duet.
"Fred, my cousin, Nelly Deane,"—
Yes, Jack, there was my brunette;
You should just have seen me, Jack—
Now, old fellow, please don't laugh,
I feel bad about it—fact—
And I really can't stand chaff.
Well, I tried to talk to Maud,
There was Nell, though, sitting by;
Every now and then she'd laugh,
Sure I can't imagine why.
Maud would read that beastly poem,
Nell's eyes said in just one glance,
"Wont I make you pay for this,
If I ever get the chance!"
Some one came and rang the bell,
Just a note for Nell, by post.
Jack, I saw my monogram—
I'd have rather seen a ghost.
Yes—her verses—I suppose
That her folks had sent them down—
Couldn't get up there, you know—
Till she'd left and come to town.
Nelly looked them quickly through—
Laughed—by Jove, I thought she'd choke.
"Maud—he'll kill me—dear! oh, dear!—
Read that; isn't it a joke?"
Maud glanced through them—sank right down
On the sofa—hid her face—
"Crying!"—not much—laughing, Jack—
Don't think she's a hopeless case.
I just grabbed my hat and left—
Only wish I'd gone before.
How they laughed!—I heard them, Jack—
Till I got outside the door.
There, confession's done me good,
I can never win her back,
So I'll calmly let her slide—
Pass the ash-cup, will you, Jack.