A meek young gentleman approached her seat,
His gloves were split, his waistcoat buttons false;
She gazed an instant at his clumsy feet,
Then sneered, “I do not valse!”
I saw a pic-nic by the river side,
On scarlet rugs one sat, apart from man,
Queenlike she was, dark-haired and dreamy-eyed,
Hat-bound with astracan.
A melancholy captain in the line
Drew near at last to pour forth all his heart;
She turned, “A thousand pardons, friend of mine,
Where is my cherry-tart?”
A maid, blue-stockinged, broke the silence drear,
And flashing forth a winning smile, said she,
“’Tis long since I have seen a man. Come here,
Play croquet now with me.”
She “spooned,” and cheated, and had ankles thick,
I let her win, the game was such a bore,
Her bright ball quivered at the coloured stick—
Touched,—and we played no more.
I turning saw a couple newly wed;
She—lately fond of flirting, and a belle—
Now contradicted every word he said,
And bullied him as well.
She said, “Oh! bother business; really, dear,
You’ve no more feeling for me than a stone;
I wish my kind mamma lived somewhere near—
I won’t be left alone!”
I was cut off from hope in such a place!
An evening party whence I dared not roam,
My sister held her hand before her face,
I longed to be at home.
I strove to stir, but I was victimized
To talk to dowagers; between the sets
Two voiceless females, old and undersized,
Chirp’d Mendelssohn’s duets.
But soon my eyes were turned towards a stage—
This was an awful sight, it haunts me yet—
I saw a lady, of uncertain age,
Burlesquing Juliet.