But, ah! there is many a blushing look,
And pressure of many a hand!
Thus wearied out with fanning herself,
With eyelids heavy and red,
This wallflower sat on a stiff-backed chair,
Wishing herself in bed.
While all were swinging with turn and twirl,
With hop, and glide, and prance,
She muttered this song to herself, and said,
"Alas", where is morality fled,