In the School of Coquettes
Madam Rose is a scholar:-
O, they fish with all nets,
In the School of Coquettes!
When her brooch she forgets,
'Tis to show her new collar;
In the School of Coquettes
Madam Rose is a scholar!
A TEAR.
There's a tear in her eye,-
Such a clear little jewel!
What can make her cry?
There's a tear in her eye.
"Puck has killed a big fly,—
And it's horribly cruel;"
There's a tear in her eye,—
Such a clear little jewel!
A GREEK GIFT.
Here's a present for Rose,
How pleased she is looking!
Is it verse? Is it prose?
Here's a present for Rose!
"Plats," "Entrees" and "Rôts,"—
Why, its "Gouffé on Cooking!"
Here's a present for Rose,
How pleased she is looking!
"URCEUS EXIT."
I intended an Ode,
And it turned to a Sonnet,
It began à la mode,
I intended an Ode;
But Rose crossed the road
In her latest new bonnet.
I intended an Ode,
And it turned to a Sonnet.
Oh, Love's but a dance,
Where Time plays the fiddle!
See the couples advance,—
Oh! Love's but a dance!
A whisper, a glance,—
'Shall we twirl down the middle?'
Oh, Love's but a dance,
Where Time plays the fiddle!