Right many a dame with perquisites and “pars.”
London, in London’s June! Above, the starshine:
Below, against the rails of Berkeley Square,
The patient lights of brougham, or rarer car, shine—
Waiting stiff-shirted squires and ladies fair:
Music, from high French windows that afar shine,
Thrills, till a dancer well might curse and swear,
And call himself a “dashed unlucky fella”
To miss the Lewis-Seymour’s Cinderella.
Within those halls, where plush-breeched flunkeys stand,