And there in ampler breadth expand
The splendors of the four-in-hand;
On faultless ties and glossy tiles
The lovely bonnets beam their smiles;
(The style’s the man, so books avow;
The style’s the woman, anyhow;)
From flounces frothed with creamy lace
Peeps out the pug-dog’s smutty face,
Or spaniel rolls his liquid eye,
Or stares the wiry pet of Skye;—
O woman, in your hours of ease
So shy with us, so free with these!
“Come on! I’ll bet you two to one
I’ll make him do it!” “Will you? Done!”
What was it who was bound to do?
I did not hear and can’t tell you,—
Pray listen till my story’s through.