THE PERIWINKLE GIRL
I’ve often thought that headstrong youths
Of decent education,
Determine all-important truths,
With strange precipitation.
The ever-ready victims they,
Of logical illusions,
And in a self-assertive way
They jump at strange conclusions.
Now take my case: Ere sorrow could
My ample forehead wrinkle,
I had determined that I should
Not care to be a winkle.
“A winkle,” I would oft advance
With readiness provoking,
“Can seldom flirt, and never dance,
Or soothe his mind by smoking.”
In short, I spurned the shelly joy,
And spoke with strange decision—
Men pointed to me as a boy
Who held them in derision.
But I was young—too young, by far—
Or I had been more wary,
I knew not then that winkles are
The stock-in-trade of Mary.
I had not watched her sunlight blithe
As o’er their shells it dances—
I’ve seen those winkles almost writhe
Beneath her beaming glances.
Of slighting all the winkly brood
I surely had been chary,
If I had known they formed the food
And stock-in-trade of Mary.
Both high and low and great and small
Fell prostrate at her tootsies,
They all were noblemen, and all
Had balances at Coutts’s.