“Molly Meade, well,
Who’d have thought of seeing you,
After what occurred last night,
Out here on the Avenue!
Oh, you awful! awful girl!
There, don’t blush, I saw it all.”
“Saw all what?” “Ahem! last night—
At the Mather’s—in the hall.”
“Oh, you horrid—where were you?
Wasn’t he the biggest goose!
Most men must be caught, but he
Ran his own neck in the noose.
I was almost dead to dance,
I’d have done it if I could,
But old Grey said I must stop,
And I promised Ma I would.
So I looked up sweet, and said
That I’d rather talk to him;
Hope he didn’t see me laugh,
Luckily the lights were dim.
My, how he did squeeze my hand!
And he looked up in my face
With his lovely big brown eyes—
Really it’s a dreadful case.
’Earnest!’—I should think he was!
Why, I thought I’d have to laugh
When he kissed a flower he took,
Looking, oh! like such a calf.
I suppose he’s got it now,
In a wine-glass on his shelves;
It’s a mystery to me
Why men will deceive themselves.
’Saw him kiss me!’—Oh, you wretch;
Well, he begged so hard for one—
And I thought there’d no one know—
So I—let him, just for fun.
I know it really wasn’t right
To trifle with his feelings, dear,
But men are such stuck-up things;
He’ll recover—never fear.”
Under the maple boughs we
Annie Leslie and I together;
She was trimming her sea-side hat
With leaves—we talked about the weather.
The sun-beams lit her gleaming
With rippling waves of golden glory,
And eyes of blue, and ringlets fair,
Suggested many an ancient story
Of fair-haired, blue-eyed
maids of old,
In durance held by grim magicians,
Of knights in armor rough with gold,
Who rescued them from such positions.
Above, the heavens aglow with
Beneath our feet the sleeping ocean,
E’en as the sky my hope was bright,
Deep as the sea was my devotion.
Her father’s voice came
through the wood,
He’d made a fortune tanning leather;
I was his clerk; I thought it good
To keep on talking about the weather.
A PIECE OF ADVICE.
So you’re going to give
up flirtation, my dear,
And lead a life sober and quiet?
There, there, I don’t doubt the intention’s sincere.
But wait till occasion shall try it.—
Is Ramsay engaged?
Now, don’t look enraged!
You like him, I know—don’t deny it!