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Words: 21400 in 12 pages
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ad begun, And often had a romp beneath the baking sun.
In fact it gave them something nice to do, Moreover 'twas a fav'rite occupation, And that chanced very fortunately too; Meanwhile they liked some light confabulation, Making arrangements for their bright vacation, And plans far too entangled, I'm afraid, To enumerate in this uncouth narration, For if upon such topics here I strayed, 'Twould take from now till doomsday, so it's best unsaid.
They'd had a call or two from neighbours near Whose company was jovial as could be; So their Mamma first started the idea That they should ask three gentlemen to tea Out in the hayfield, where they would be free, To help in tossing o'er the scented hay; Then all assemble underneath the tree, And chatter anything they'd like to say, While Julia handed round refreshment on a tray.
All was decided, and a note was sent, Penned with Mamma's gold pen and sealed with care, And Julia brought a note to the intent That they would be most happy to be there; And whereon everybody did declare They were the nicest folks beneath the sun, And Julia did most naturally stare To hear the happy thing that they had done, And longed to see arrangements instantly begun.
The daughters three received exact directions How to do all things and go everywhere: Concerning all their musical selections And all about the "skirts" they had to wear, How they should dress and e'en adorn their hair, What rings to show, whether diamond or not; Injunctions to observe the greatest care In choice of stockings, and I don't know what.
But she had seen her fifty years of life, So her young days for ever had swept by, And back to days e'er she became a wife She looked and for them breathed a lingering sigh, To tell the truth, my reader, I don't blame 'em For thinking hardly of the marriage tie, Most men's delight is not to love but tame 'em, I know a score but 'twouldn't do to name 'em.
No doubt she'd danced with all the proud and high And revelled in the pomp of this vain earth, Enjoyed that mimic farce--Society, Entitled by significance of birth, But what of this! Society's not mirth, It has its fairer and its darker side, The one is worth, the other--want of worth, What are the hollow luxuries of Pride? Oh gaze not on the gloom its dazzling tinsels hide!
How nice it is to dash about in style With prancing steeds thro' all the whirling west Of mighty London, under Fashion's smile, And feel one's happy self supremely blest, And bowed to by a "humble flunkey flat," With endless formal courtesies oppressed; To flirt with Baron this or Lady that, And mix with all the great, the honoured of the state.
Roll to the theatre, too. Upon the board Gaze on the actor--paralyzed and dumb, Till, like one man, ten thousand hands applaud, From the palpitating auditorium. See from the boxes all the purses come! How riveted admirers pause aghast! Hear the excitement in the stifled hum! And see the tears of each enthusiast! Look! ere the actor has before the curtain passed.
Turn on the lights! Let the besweated crowds Shriek as the music swells, now high, now low For all to-morrow slumber in their shrouds Who drained excitement's cup an hour ago! Watch flitting beauty, nymph-like, come and go, Fan the scorched cheek and quaff the bright champagne, Around the circles see the diamond-glow, Revel in laughter, think no more of pain! See! see! the blind ascends and all begins again!
Put up the opera-glass and scan the stage, On crimson piles luxuriantly recline, And see the premature decay of age Transformed to youth, a lovely columbine! While th' gorgeous tapestries of rare design In rich profusion hang in heavy fold; See every pantomimic splendour shine Like glist'ring starlight, opal, pearl, and gold, Mirrors reflecting mirrors, countless and untold!
But some folks always spend the night in gaming, Or very nearly so, at any rate, And other vices hardly worth the naming , Then think of rising very, very late After a night's debauch and dissipation And rolling homewards with unsteady gait . Ours is a sad nation!
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