Laughing mouths and dimples pretty,
Belles and matrons, maids and madams,
All are gone to Mrs. Adams’s.
There the mist of the future, the gloom of the past,
All melt into light at the warm glance of pleasure;
And the only regret is, lest melting too fast,
Mammas should move off in the midst of a measure.
Wend you with the world to-night?
Sixty grey, and giddy twenty,
Flirts that court, and prudes that slight,