Upon the kerb a maiden neat—
Her watchet eyes are passing sweet—
There stands and waits in dire distress:
The muddy road is pitiless,
And 'buses thunder down the street!
A snowy skirt, all frill and pleat;
Two tiny, well-shod, dainty feet
Peep out, beneath her kilted dress,
Upon the kerb!
She'll first advance and then retreat,