Though my feet have lost their spring.
"So at times, when I'm out of breath,
And the men go off in a pack
To dangle about some chit just 'out,'—
Who smirks like a garrison hack,—
I try for a short half hour
To feel as I used to feel
When a girl, if my boldness was all assumed,
My hair, at least, was real.
"And at times, for a short half hour,