Then I think of our pic-nic. The sunshine came glinting,
And we thought that the summer had come—come to stay.
We did not walk too fast, you were constantly hinting
You were really afraid we were losing our way.
I seemed to be catching two glimpses of heaven,
As I gazed at the sky and kept looking at you;
For the party that started by being just seven
Had a curious habit of shrinking to two.
Why, that's quite sentimental. It isn't the fashion
To write of such things in so high flown a style.