And when she’s at home, she but lolls in a chair,
And wonders how soon she again will go there.
On her way to the rink I once chanced to be nigh her,
And I thought that she held her head higher and higher,
So fine was the dress she wore, I quite shuddered to think
Of the money she wastes on the terrible rink.
I made her a visit, still hoping to find
She took some little care for improving her mind;
She told me her feats, talked of dressing and rinking,
But scarce reads a book, and never loves thinking.