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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11711-0.txt b/11711-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0b75dd4 --- /dev/null +++ b/11711-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2368 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11711 *** + +When Hearts are Trumps + +By + +Tom Hall + +[Illustration] + + +_New York_ +Frederick A. Stokes +Company +Publishers + + + + +Frederick H. Stokes +Company + +Sixth Edition +September 1898 + + + + +_The verses in this volume have been selected from work that has +appeared in various periodicals during the past five years. Especially +to the editors of_ LIFE, TRUTH, TOWN TOPICS, VOGUE, _and_ MUNSEY'S +MAGAZINE _I have to offer my thanks for their permission to republish +the majority of them_. + +_T.H._ + +NEW YORK, February 1, 1894. + + + + +Contents. + +KINGS & QUEENS & BOWERS + + THE PERFECT FACE + THE MOONLIGHT SONATA + THE KISS + THE BRIDE + A PROBLEM + TO PHYLLIS READING A LETTER + A ROSE FROM HER HAIR + WHEN I TOLD HER MY LOVE + MY LADY, YOU BLUSHED + THE AMERICAN SLAVE + SELL HER,--THAT'S RIGHT + TIME AND PLACE + BLOOD ON THE ROSE + IN OLD MADRID + THE DUEL + THE SHROUD + LOVE'S RETURN + ONE WISH + FOR ME + TO A WATER-COLOR + THE SERENADE + TO THE ROSE IN HER HAIR + HER REVERIE + TO BEAUTY + DREAMING OF YOU + PLEASE RETURN + ALMOST DYING OF ENNUI + JACKS FROM JACK + HYACINTHS + IN THE WALTZ + SHE IS MINE + OLD TIMES + OF MY LOVE + THE FAREWELL + THE LAST DANCE + WHY HE ASKED FOR A VACATION + THE EDITOR'S VALENTINE + ACTING + AN APACHE LOVE-SONG + THE OLD-FASHIONED GIRL + A RETROSPECT + HARD HIT + REJECTED + +JOKERS + + HER YACHTING CAP + THEFT + BEFORE HER MIRROR + AT OLD POINT COMFORT + A DROP TOO MUCH + INGRATITUDE + A FEW RESOLUTIONS + A DILEMMA + A CHOICE NOT NECESSARY + THAT BOSTON GIRL + THE HERO + THE SWEET SUMMER GIRL + HER FAN + CERTAINTY + CAUGHT + AN IMPORTANT DISTINCTION + TWO KINDS + WHAT IT IS + IN HER PEW + THE SUSPICIOUS LOVER TO THE STAR + A SLIGHT SURPRISE + PAST _vs_. PRESENT + THE USUAL WAY + A DIFFERENCE IN STYLE + AFRAID + YE RETORT EXASPERATING + A RHYMING REVERIE + A SURE WINNER + TANTALIZATION + HIS USUAL FATE + ON TWO LETTERS FROM HER + A SERENADE--EN DEUX LANGUES + WHEN A GIRL SAYS "NO" + UNCERTAINTY + HER PECULIARITIES + TYING THE STRINGS OF HER SHOE + WHEN YOU ARE REJECTED + A BACHELOR'S VIEWS + MY CIGARETTE + DISCOVERED + THE ICE IN THE PUNCH + THE TALE OF A BROKEN HEART + WHERE DID YOU GET IT? + NO + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S TEMPEST + THE ABUSED GALLANT + AFTER THE BALL + VANITY FAIR + FOR THE LONG VOYAGE + + + + Kings + & + Queens + & + Bowers + + + +The Perfect Face. + + The Graces, on a summer day, + Grew serious for a moment; yea, + They thought in rivalry to trace + The outline of a perfect face. + + Each used a rosebud for a brush, + And, while it glowed with sunset's blush, + Each painted on the evening sky, + And each a star used for the eye. + + They finished. Each a curtaining cloud + Drew back, and each exclaimed aloud: + "Behold, we three have drawn the same, + From the same model!" Ah, her name? + + I know. I saw the pictures grow. + I saw them falter, fade, and go. + I know the model. Oft she lures + My heart. The face, my sweet, was yours. + + + + +The Moonlight Sonata. + + The notes still float upon the air, + Just as they did that night. + I see the old piano there,-- + Oh, that again I might! + + Her young voice haunts my eager ear; + Her hair in the candle-light + Still seems an aureole,--a tear + Is my spectroscope to-night. + + I hear her trembling tell me "No," + And I know that she answered right + But I throw a kiss to the stars, and though + She be wed she will dream to-night. + + + + +The Kiss + + Over the green fields, over the snow, + Something I send thee, something I throw. + No one can guess it; no one can know. + + Light as a feather, quick as the eye; + Thin as a sunbeam, deep as the sky; + Worthless, but something a queen could not buy. + + Ah, you have caught it, love! How do I know? + Sweet, there are secrets lost ages ago. + Lovers learn all of them. Smile not,--'tis so. + + + + +The Bride. + + Before her mirror, robed in spotless white, + She stands and, wondering, looks at her own face, + Amazed at its new loveliness and grace. + Smiling and blushing at the pretty sight, + So fraught is she with innocent delight, + She feels the tender thrill of his embrace + Crushing her lilies into flowery lace; + Then sighs and starts, even as though from fright. + + Then fleets before her eyes the happy past; + She turns from it with petulant disdain, + And tries to read the future,--but in vain. + Blank are its pages from the first to last. + She hears faint music, smiles, and leaves the room + Just as one rosebud more bursts into bloom. + + + + +A Problem. + + Give you a problem for your midnight toil,-- + One you can study till your hair is white + And never solve and never guess aright, + Although you burn to dregs your midnight oil? + O Sage, I give one that will make you moil. + Just take one weakling little woman's heart. + Prepare your patience, furbish up your art. + How now? Did I not see you then recoil? + + Tell me how many times it has known pain; + Tell me what thing will make it feel delight; + Tell me when it is modest, when 'tis vain; + Tell me when it is wrong and when 'tis right: + But tell me this, all other things above,-- + Can it feel, Sage, the thing that man calls "Love"? + + + + +To Phyllis Reading a Letter. + + A smile is curving o'er her creamy cheek, + Her bosom swells with all a lover's joy, + When love receives a message that the coy + Young love-god made a strong and true heart speak + From far-off lands; and like a mountain-peak + That loses in one avalanche its cloy + Of ice and snow, so doth her breast employ + Its hidden store of blushes; and they wreak + Destruction, as they crush my aching heart,-- + Destruction, wild, relentless, and as sure + As the poor Alpine hamlet's; and no art + Can hide my agony, no herb can cure + My wound. Her very blush says, "We must part." + Why was it always my fate to endure? + + + + +A Rose from her hair. + + She gave me a rose from her hair, + And she hid her young heart within it. + I could hardly speak from despair, + Till she gave that rose from her hair, + And leaned out over the stair + With a blush as she stooped to pin it. + She gave me a rose from her hair, + And she hid her young heart within it. + + + + +When I told her my Love. + + When I told her my love, + She was maidenly shy, + And she bit at her glove. + + I gave Cupid a shove; + Yes, I begged him to try, + When I told her my love + + What was she thinking of + As she uttered that sigh + And she bit at her glove? + + And pray what does it prove + That she stopped there to sigh, + When I told her my love + And she bit at her glove? + + + + +My Lady, you Blushed. + + My lady, you blushed. + Was my love a surprise? + How quickly they hushed! + + A curl of yours brushed + All else from my eyes. + My lady, you blushed. + + You say that I gushed, + And they all heard my sighs? + How quickly they hushed! + + Your roses were crushed; + _N'importe_ wherefores and whys. + My lady, you blushed. + + + + +The American Slave. + + Come, muster your pleasantest smile, my dear, + And put on your prettiest gown. + Forget about Jack for a while, my dear, + His lordship has just come to town. + + He's come here to get him a wife, my dear, + And you have been put up for sale + With a marvellous income for life, my dear, + To balance your side of the scale. + + His lordship is feeble and old, my dear,-- + What odds? All the sooner he'll die. + And he has a sore need of your gold, my dear: + See the good you can do if you'll try. + + And then a real lady you'll be, my dear, + Not only by nature but name; + Mamma'll be so proud,--you can see, my dear, + No one thinks it, as you do, a shame. + + So bend your proud head. Are you faint, my dear? + Keep the tears back, be buoyant and brave. + Keep that pose! Now a portrait we'll paint, my dear, + To be called "The American Slave." + + + + +Sell Her,--That's Right. + + Sell her,--that's right! She is young, she is fair; + There's the light of the sun in the coils of her hair. + And her soul is as white as the first flakes of snow + That are falling to-night. 'T is a bargain, a "go" + Sell her,--that's right! + + Sell her,--that's right! For a bag full of gold. + Put her down in your ledger, and label her "Sold" + She's only a beauty with somebody's name, + And the Church for a pittance will wash out the shame. + Sell her,--that's right! + + + + +Time and Place. + + Hasten on! The mad moonlight is beaming + On the hatred and love 'twixt us two; + And it beams on the maid who is dreaming, + And the grave made for me or for you. + + Time and place,--love and life in the balance, + Fear and hope in the glance of your eye. + Draw your blade! Forget not we are gallants + Who can laugh at our fate as we die. + + On your guard! There'll be blood on the metal + Ere she wakes from her innocent dreams; + There's a long list of kisses to settle, + And some love sighs and death sighs, it seems. + Bare your arm! Strike for life and the maiden! + Take that! You are cautious, I fear + Speed the blow,--'tis with happiness laden + For him who does not remain here + + That and that! I am wounded,--it's over + Those kisses were destined for you; + But now she is yours and you love her, + Go tell her that I loved her too + + + + +Blood on the Rose. + + Is it dew on the rose? + 'T is the same that I gave him + Last night when I chose + To warn him and save him; + + That he pinned on his breast + With a smile at his danger, + And a smile, not in jest, + That was sweeter and stranger + + Here are footprints of foes! + Oh, my heart!--I can feel + It is blood on the rose + And a sliver of steel. + + + + +In Old Madrid. + + I strolled the streets in quest of any love, + In old Madrid long centuries ago; + I caught the perfume of a scented glove, + I saw a sweet face in a portico. + + She laughed--then paled. She leaned out; whispered, "Fly!" + And then I felt the sting of steel, the hiss + Of curses in my ear, and knew that I + Had forfeited my life--and lost a kiss. + + + + +The Duel. + + Ten paces--one, two, three, and fire! + Two gallants have their heart's desire. + + One of them dies, the other laughs; + The seconds smile, the doctor chaffs. + + A woman, smiling, dreams she's wed + To--hush, to the very one that's dead. + + + + +The Shroud. + + The snow came softly, silently, down + Into the streets of the dark old town; + And lo! by the wind it was swept and piled + On the sleeping form of a beggar-child. + + It kissed her cheek, and it filled her hair + With crystals that looked like diamonds there; + And she dreamed that she was a fair young bride + In a pure white dress by her husband's side. + + A blush crept over her pale young face, + And her thin lips smiled with a girlish grace; + But the old storm-king made his boast aloud + That his work that night was weaving a shroud. + + + + +Love's Return. + + Love has come back--ah me, the joy!-- + Greater than when Love began + To wound my heart. The jocund boy! + Love has come back a gray-haired man. + + His eyes are red with tears of woe, + His cheeks are pale, and his heart is sore; + But Love has come back at last, and, oh! + Love will be faithful evermore. + + + + +One Wish. + + My thoughts are gliding down the stream, + Ah, faster than the river flows; + And idly in my heart I dream + Of islands where the lotus grows. + + I fear not rapids, waterfall, + Or whirlpool leading down to death, + If love but my tired heart enthrall, + And I may sip a woman's breath. + + I care not what may be my fate. + Roll on, mad river, to the sea; + Drown all ambition, pride, and hate,-- + But leave one woman's love to me. + + + + +For Me. + + I heard her song, + Low in the night, + From out her casement steal away, + Nor thought it wrong + To steal a sight + Of her--and lo! she knelt to pray. + + I heard her say, + "Forgive him, Lord; + Such as he seems he cannot be." + I turned away, + Myself abhorred. + She prayed--and oh! she prayed for me. + + + + +To a Water-color. + + Sweet Phyllis, maid of yesterday, + Come down from out that frame, + And tell me why you looked so gay-- + Likewise your other name. + + Had bold Sir Plume confessed his love + And asked you if you'd wed? + And had he called you "Lovey-dove"? + And how long are you dead? + + Where did you get that wondrous gown, + Those patches, and that hair? + And how were things in London town + The last time you were there? + + And did you die a maid or wife, + Your husband lord or knave? + And how did you like this jolly life? + And how do you like the grave? + + + + +The Serenade. + + Under my casement, as I pray, + My lover sings my cares away + With many a half-forgotten lay. + + He leans against the linden-tree, + And sings old songs of Arcady + That he knows well are loved by me. + + Half through the night the sweet strains float + Like wind-blown rose-leaves, note by note, + Over the great wall and the moat, + + Up to my window, till they teem + Into my soul, and almost seem + To be there even when I dream. + + And his heart trembling beats with bliss + If I but throw him one small kiss + Just as I now throw this, and this + + + + +To the Rose in her hair. + + Poor little rose, I pity you-- + Sweet as Oporto's wind when fruity-- + Tortured an evil hour or two, + Just to adorn a wilful beauty. + + I know her well, too well, alas! + (Just watch the fairy as she dances.) + She wears my heart--but let that pass; + It's dead: she killed it with her glances. + + Your fate, poor rose, is such as mine,-- + To be despised when you are faded; + Yet she's an angel--too divine + To be by you or me upbraided. + + + + +Her Reverie. + + A lady combed her silken hair. + None but a looking-glass would dare + To gaze on such a scene. + The blushes thronged her dimpled cheek; + They coursed upon her shoulders, eke, + And the white neck between. + + And she was thinking then, I trow, + Of one who, in a whispered vow + Beneath the budding elm, + Had told her they would sail their barque + On lakes where pale stars pierced the dark, + With Cupid at the helm. + + Anon, a faint smile pursed her lips + And shook her dainty finger-tips, + As breezes shake the boughs; + And then a quick, impetuous frown + Came gathering from her ringlets down, + And perched upon her brows. + + Ah, she was thinking then, I ween, + Of me, poor clumsy dunce, who e'en + Had torn her silken dress. + I waltzed too near her at the ball; + Her beauty dazed me--that was all; + I felt a dizziness. + + + + +To Beauty. + + "Oh, Mistress Beauty," said my sigh, + "I'd laugh to scorn all other blisses, + If you and I might live and die + Together on such fare as kisses. + + "Your kirtle would not be of silk, + The band around it but torn leather. + I think our wine would be plain milk; + I think we'd oft see stormy weather. + + "But, oh, there are some things in life + Worth more to men than fame or money; + And one of them's a sweet young wife, + So pure, so honest, and so bonnie." + + + + +Dreaming of You. + + My soul feels refreshed, like a rose kissed by dew, + When waking I know I've been dreaming of you. + + They thought I was mad. Ah, my sweet, if they knew + That my malady simply was dreaming of you! + + I've one wish. 'Tis to sleep all the long ages through + By your side, you my bride, and I dreaming of you. + + + + +Please Return. + + Now, all you pretty maids in town, + Take heed of my sad plight. + I've lost a kiss; I'll give a crown + To get it back to-night. + + I threw it, poet-like, I own, + Up to a silvery star; + I must confess I might have known + I could not throw so far. + + But, oh, surprise! It circled round, + And sank as though 't were laden + With love--when almost to the ground + 'T was caught by some young maiden. + + And that young maid I wish to find. + I've lost a kiss, alack! + It is not hers. She'll not be kind + Unless she give it back. + + + + +Almost Dying of Ennui. + + What are the charms of the sea? + Oh for an hour of the city! + What are the dull waves to me? + Can they say anything witty? + + What do they care for my lips? + Why did I come? It's a pity! + Nothing but water and ships, + And Jack far away in the city. + + Oh for one ride in the park, + With Jack humming bars from a ditty; + Kissing me (when it grows dark). + Fy! Oh--heigho, for the city! + + + + +Jacks from Jack. + + Fresh, fragrant, tempting, balmy, red-- + What fool would send them back? + Why do I wish that I were dead, + With all these jacks from Jack? + + Why do I bite my lips and frown, + Tear buttons off my sacque, + When, just returning to the town, + I get these jacks from Jack? + + Alas, for pleasure's giddy whirl, + For summer lost, alack! + He's off to see some other girl; + That's why mere jacks from Jack. + + + + +Hyacinths. + + Hyacinths, tenderly sweet, + Is it life that you ask in your prayer? + Ah, I would die at her feet, + If I could be one of you there. + + There on her billowy breast, + So near to her innocent heart, + That its beating would lull me to rest, + And to dream I should never depart. + + Sighing are you for the stars? + Look in the depths of her eyes. + Is there a gem of the Czar's + So much like those gems of the skies? + + Is it the dew that you miss? + Hyacinths, hyacinths, wait. + Soon she will give you a kiss. + Oh, how I envy your fate! + + + + +In The Waltz. + + +AN ECHO FROM A SEASIDE HOP. + + Light as the waves foaming white on the bar, + We dance to the mandolin, harp, and guitar; + One, two, three, waltzing we glide round the room,-- + Would you were bride, and ah, would I were groom! + + On all the seashore none fairer than you; + What but adore you could any one do? + Cheeks like the pink of an evening sky, + Eyes that might bid a man laughingly die. + + Ears like the shells from the Indian sea, + Teeth like white buds on a young apple-tree, + Throat like a lily bent heavy with dew, + Arms just as white and as lily-like too. + + Lips that would tempt--ah! you'll pardon me now, + Being so near them suggests, you'll allow, + That the happiest thing e'er a mortal could do, + Would be to be ever thus waltzing with you. + + + + +She Is Mine. + + There's a sparkle in her eye + That no millionnaire can buy. + If they think so, let them try-- + She's divine. + + There's a blush upon her cheek + Like the peach-tree's blossom, eke, + Like red willows by the creek, + Or like wine. + + She has roses in her hair. + It was I who put them there. + Really, did I ever dare-- + Is she mine? + + Or is it all a dream,-- + Idle poet's empty theme + Put in words that make it seem + Superfine? + + No; for see upon her hand + There's a little golden band,-- + Filigree work, understand, + Like a vine; + + And a perfect solitaire + Fits upon it. The affair + Cost two hundred. I don't care! + She is mine. + + + + +Old Times. + + Ah, good old times of belles and beaux, + Of powdered wigs and wondrous hose, + Of stately airs and careful grace, + Look you at our degenerate race. + + No more the gallant spends his time + In writing of his love in rhyme; + No more he lives unconscious of + All earthly things save war and love. + + We modern men have toils and cares + To streak our pates with whitened hairs, + And have to crowd our love and all + Into one short and weekly call. + + + + +Of My Love. + + Was ever a moon + In joyous June + As royal, radiant, rare as she, + With her smiling lips, + As she lightly trips + Down through the autumn woods to me? + + Never a queen + On her throne, I ween, + Had such a loyal slave as I. + Ready to bear + All her cares, I swear, + Just for a fleeting kiss on the sly. + + Oh for the day + We gallop away + To the curate's cottage, Gretna Green; + Side by side, + Groom and bride, + Happy twenty and sweet sixteen! + + + + +The Farewell. + + Not going abroad? What, to-morrow, + And to stay, goodness knows for how long? + Really, Jack, 'twould appear that dry sorrow + Had done even you, sir, a wrong. + + It has? Ha, ha, ha! What a joke, sir! + Is it Mabel or Jenny or Nell? + I'm sure you are wrong,--hold my cloak, sir,-- + Am I not an old friend? Come now, tell. + + The prince of our set broken-hearted! + What a joke! Who rejected you? Speak! + Did you look like that, Jack, when you parted? + Was that pallor of death on your cheek? + + You interest me. Tell me about it; + And let your old chum, sir, console. + Hard hit in the heart. I don't doubt it; + You were made for that sort of a rôle. + + Did you bend on your knee, like an actor, + Hardly knowing just where to begin? + Was dear mamma's consent the main factor? + What a fool the poor girl must have been! + + Who was she? What!--I?--You were jealous? + O, Jack, who'd have thought such a thing? + You've been certainly not over-zealous. + But kiss me--and where is the ring? + + + + +The Last Dance. + +AN INCIDENT IN A WINDOW SEAT. + + _He_: Well, how many conquests? I fancy a score + By the flush on your cheeks and your shoulders. + + _She_: A bore! + + _He_: Oh, nonsense; a debutante just out of school + Who can rule with a smile what a king could not rule, + From young Harry, her prince, to myself, her poor fool! + Come, tell me, did Harry propose? + + _She_: What a goose + You would think me to tell you, and then of what use + Could it be? + + _He_: Well, it might give me hope, where before + There was none,--quite a boon from the lips you adore + When you 're hungry for love. + + _She (coquetting)_: Or who knows but it might-- + + _He_: Yes, it might blot from life every semblance of light + As the clouds blot the moon on a storm-troubled night. + But tell me. + + _She_: He did. + + _He_: And your answer was? + + _She_: No. + + _He_: You mean it, or are you coquetting yet? + + _She_: Oh! + I just told him I cared for another--he smiled. + It was merely to him so much pleasure beguiled + From a girl. Charge it up profit?--loss?--tell me which? + He thinks I am pretty, they say, but, not rich. + He would love me, perhaps, for a season or two, + So I told him that I loved another. + + _He_: And who? + + _She (archly)_: Really, must I tell _you?_ + + _He_: No--your finger--yes, this! + A solitaire--done! and now quickly! + + _She (feigning reluctance)_: One! + + _He (ecstatically)_: Kiss. + + + + +Why he asked for a Vacation. + + "Dear Jack: + It's delightfully gay here,-- + Old Paris seemed never so fine,-- + And mamma says we're going to stay here, + And papa--well, papa sips his wine + And says nothing. You know him of old, dear. + He's only too happy to rest,-- + After making three millions in gold, dear. + He's played out, it must be confessed,-- + And I--I'm to wed an old Baron + Three weeks from to-day, in great style + (He's as homely and gaunt as old Charon, + And they say that his past has been vile); + And I've promised to cut you hereafter,-- + Small chance, though, we ever shall meet,-- + So let's turn our old love into laughter, + And face the thing through. Shall we, sweet? + Can you give me up, Jack, to this _roué_, + Just because we may always be poor? + There's still enough time, dear, _et tu es_ + _Un brave_,--you will come, I am sure. + Put your trunk on the swiftest Cunarder, + And don't give me up, Jack, for--well, + There are things in this world that are harder + Than poverty. Come to me! + + NELL." + + + + +The Editor's Valentine. + + The editor sat in his old arm-chair + (Half his work undone he was well aware), + While the flickering light in the dingy room + Made the usual newspaper office gloom. + + Before him news from the North and South, + A long account of a foreign drouth, + A lot of changes in local ads, + The report of a fight between drunken cads, + + And odds and ends and smoke and talk,-- + A reporter drawing cartoons in chalk + On the dirty wall, while others laughed, + And one wretch whistled, and all of them chaffed. + + But the editor leaned far back in his chair; + He ran his hands through his iron-gray hair, + And stole ten minutes from work to write + A valentine to his wife that night. + + He thought of metre, he thought of rhyme. + 'Twas a race between weary brains and time. + He tried to write as he used to when + His heart was as young as his untried pen. + + He started a sonnet, but gave it up. + A rondeau failed for a rhyme to "cup." + And the old clock ticked his time away, + For the editor's mind would go astray. + + He thought of the days when they were young, + And all but love to the winds was flung, + He thought of the way she used to wear + Her wayward tresses of golden hair. + + He thought of the way she used to blush. + He thought of the way he used to gush. + And a smile and a tear went creeping down + The face that so long had known a frown. + + And this is what the editor wrote: + No poem--merely a little note, + Simple and manly, but tender, too; + Three little words--they were, "I love you." + + + + +Acting. + + Ah, my arms hold you fast! How can they be so bold + When my hands offer nothing of silver or gold? + + Can it be that I see a new light in your eye? + Can it be that I heard then a womanly sigh? + + Ah, I feel such delight, and such joy, such surprise, + That I hardly dare lift my own sight to your eyes + + Ah, my arms hold you fast, and my lips touch your cheek, + And I'm crying, "Love, answer me; speak to me--speak!" + + And the answer you give to my longing distress + Is that word, with a blush and a kiss, that word "Yes." + + Ah, my arms hold you fast, and I burn with a fire + That nothing but long-waiting love can inspire. + + Yet I know you mean nothing--mean nothing, because + It's mere acting. Ah me, I can hear the applause. + + + + +An Apache Love-Song.[1] + + A-atana she was here. + A-atana I was dear. + She will never come again. + Chill my heart, O wind and rain. + A-atana she was here. + + Hark, the wind asks "Hi-you?" + And I answer "A-coo, + Ustey with your bitter cold; + U-ga-sha, my love of old." + Still the wind asks "Hi-you?" + + "Hi-you?" I know not where. + A-oo, I hardly care. + Take it to the land of snow; + Take it where the stars all go. + "Hi-you?" I do not care. + + It-sau-i did it all-- + It-sau-i, proud and tall. + Tell her I have gone to fight. + Ask her if her heart is light. + It-sau-i did it all. + +[Footnote 1: _A-atana_, yesterday. _Hi-you_, where. _A-coo_, here. +_U's-tey_, come, or bring. _U'-ga-sha_, go, or take. _A-oo_, yes. I have +no authority for the spelling of these words. I rendered them +phonetically from the pronunciation of a young Apache whom I hired to +teach me the language. Many Apache words have no perceptible accent. A, +here, has the sound of a in father.] + + + + +The Old-fashioned Girl. + + There's an old-fashioned girl in an old fashioned street, + Dressed in old-fashioned clothes from her head to her feet; + And she spends all her time in the old-fashioned way + Of caring for poor people's children all day. + + She never has been to cotillon or ball, + And she knows not the styles of the Spring or the Fall; + Two hundred a year will suffice for her needs, + And an old-fashioned Bible is all that she reads. + + And she has an old-fashioned heart that is true + To a fellow who died in an old coat of blue, + With its buttons all brass,--who is waiting above + For the woman who loved him with old-fashioned love. + + + + +A Retrospect. + + I was poor as a beggar,--she knew it,-- + But proud as a king through it all; + Though it cost me two dollars to do it, + I took little Meg to the ball. + + Mere calico served her for satin; + My broadcloth was made of blue jeans. + Without crest or a motto in Latin, + Meg's style was as grand as a queen's. + + And we were in dreamland all through it, + And I do not regret it at all; + Though it cost me two dollars to do it, + I took little Meg to the ball. + + + + +Hard Hit. + + I guess that I'm done for, old chappie! + Done, whether she loves me or not,-- + But don't look so deuced unhappy,-- + Y'know it was I fired the shot. + + Thanks, awfully. Give me the whiskey,-- + There's a horrible pain in my head; + It's queer that my nerves should be frisky + When my heart is as heavy as lead. + + I'm worthless; I own it! She told me, + That night at the Country Club ball,-- + Don't try, dear old fellow, to hold me,-- + Ah, Nellie!--it's over!--don't call! + + She told me my life had been wasted, + That my money had ruined my mind, + That I'd not left a pleasure untasted,-- + Had been a disgrace to mankind! + + And now she's to marry another,-- + A poor man, but honest and strong, + Who had never a passion to smother, + And never a chance to do wrong. + + He loves her. They'll all think it funny + I don't curse him and kill him, old fel; + But she loves him. I've left him my money,-- + For I love her--God bless her! Farewell! + + + + +Rejected. + + Aw, yes, bah Jove. I thought you'd answer "No." + But still a fellah 's got to awsk, you see. + And then there was the chance you might outgrow + That way you had of making fun of me. + + Three years in Europe sometimes make a change + In girls like you, who've always been adored; + And when you laughed, I thought it rawther strange. + Aw, I beg pawdon; p'haps you feel, aw--bored. + + You don't? You think it fun--a fellah's pains + At words like yours? You don't know how they smart. + I know you think I haven't any brains; + But still, Miss Nellie, I've a--I've a heart. + + + + +Jokers + + + + +Her Yachting Cap. + + Oh, the little yachting cap + That is lying in her lap + Has a sort of fascination for poor me. + It is made of something white, + And she wears it day and night, + Through the weeks she spends each summer by the sea. + + She can make of it a fan, + And, when necessary, can + Hide her face behind it, if she chance to blush. + It has carried caramels, + Chocolate drops, and pretty shells, + And I've even seen her use it as a brush. + + But still it has one fault + In my eyes. I'd better halt, + Had I not, and ponder well what I shall say? + She is darting warning glances. + Well, under certain circumstances, + The visor's always getting in my way. + + + + +Theft. + + The moonlight steals around the pine; + Star-eyes steal radiance from thine. + + Low music steals upon the ear; + Can there be theft when thou art near? + + I steel my heart for fear of this,-- + I steel my heart and steal a kiss. + + I'd steal the sacramental wine + If it were sweet as kiss of thine! + + + + +Before her Mirror. + + I pause before her mirror and reflect + (That's what the mirror does, I take it, too); + Reflect how little it has known neglect, + And think, "O mirror, would that I were you." + + She has no secrets that you do not know, + You and yon crescent box of poudre de rose. + And even these long curling irons can show + Much evidence of use, yet naught disclose. + + Here, when she smiles, _you_ know it is her teeth + She's putting to the test ere she depart + For the gay revel on the lawn beneath, + Or moonlight ramble that may break a heart. + + Here she may blush, until she, red as wine, + Knows that her triumphs have not ceased to be. + Here, when she frowns, and looks still more divine, + You know, wise mirror, that she thinks of me. + + + + +At Old Point Comfort. + + You don't think of dresses, or ducats, or dukes; + You don't care for chaperone's rigid rebukes; + It's just simply grand, + To lie there on the sand, + Down at the beach,-- + If a man's within reach. + + Some like the moonlight and some like the sun, + Some flirt in earnest and some flirt in fun; + It's worth all the rash, + Reckless spending of cash, + All the dresses you spoil, + All the tempers you roil, + Down at the beach,-- + If a man's within reach. + + It's better than sleigh-rides, cotillons, or teas, + It makes the dull Patriarch's knickerbocked knees + Shake in the dance, + And then one has a chance, + If one's pretty and smart, + With a tongue not too tart, + Of presenting papaw + With a new son-in-law, + Down at the beach,-- + If a man's within reach. + + + + +A Drop Too Much. + + I praised her hair, I praised her lips, + She looked up with surprise; + I bowed to kiss her finger-tips, + And then she dropped her eyes. + + I said love ruled the world; that I + Adored her; called her "Nan." + She merely looked a little shy, + And then she dropped her fan. + + I took the hint, and at her feet + I knelt--yes, quite absurd; + But oh, my fond heart wildly beat + To hear her drop a word. + + I told her all: my talents few, + My direful lack of pelf. + (We all have erred.) She said "Adieu," + And then dropped me myself. + + + + +Ingratitude. + + Last night young Cupid lost his way, + And came to me to find it. + He'd been a truant all the day, + But didn't seem to mind it. + + I put him in a hansom then + For home, and feed the cabby; + But my reward was what most men + Would call extremely shabby. + + He got his bow and arrows out, + And pierced my heart, nor tarried, + But drove away ere I could shout, + "Great Heavens, Cupe, I'm married!" + + + + +A Few Resolutions. + +(_With Reservations_) + + He shall never know that I love him-- + Until he asks if I do. + And I'll feel very much above him-- + When he stoops to tie my shoe. + + And I shall never kiss him-- + Until he kisses me. + And I shall never miss him-- + Till he sails over the sea. + + And I shall never wed him, + Nor call myself his bride-- + Till Cupid and I have led him + Right up to the minister's side. + + + + +A Dilemma. + + A letter for me, + From the girl that I love! + Just penned by her hand + And caressed by her glove. + A jewel--a gem--ah! + A letter from Emma. + + A letter for me, + Oh, what joy, what surprise! + Just kissed by her lips-- + At least, blest by her eyes. + 'T is opened--ahem, ah! + A letter from Emma. + + A letter for me, + From my sweet little bird. + Eight pages, by Jove! + And I can't read a word. + A precious dilemma, + This letter from Emma! + + + + +A Choice not Necessary. + + Here is a rose, + Here is a kiss; + Which do you choose? + One rhymes with prose; + One rhymes with bliss. + Ah, you amuse. + + You hesitate, + You blush, you sigh. + What! are you loath? + 'Tis getting late; + Be quick-- + Fool, take them both! + + + + +That Boston Girl. + + Her voice is sweet, + Her style is neat; + She'd move the world with but a pen. + Her mind is clear; + Her sight, though near, + Is long enough to capture men. + What matters it her learning, then? + + + + +The Hero. + + He looked so handsome, proud, and brave, + As he stood there, straight and tall, + With his steadfast eyes, so gray, so grave, + The beau of the Hunt Club ball. + + Ah me, full many a white breast sighed + For the favor of his hand,-- + For the love of a heart so true, so tried, + For life, you understand. + + He looked a hero; he was more, + A martyr, too, perchance; + For he went to the oldest girl on the floor, + And led her out to dance. + + + + +The Sweet Summer Girl. + + She has hair that is fluffy, straight, banged, or half curled; + Has a parasol, oft by her deft fingers twirled. + She has eyes either brown or black, gray or true blue; + Has a neat fitting glove and a still neater shoe. + + She has cheeks that make bitter the envious rose; + She has trunks upon trunks of the costliest clothes; + She has jewels that shine as the stars do at night; + And she dances as Ariel dances--or might. + + She knows nothing much, but she's great on the smile; + Her profession is love, and she flirts all the while; + She's accustomed to sitting on rocks in the glen; + She is also accustomed to sitting on men. + + + + +Her Fan. + + A dainty thing of silk and lace, + Of feathers, and of paint, + Held often to her laughing face + When I assume the saint. + + Too dainty far to mix with these + Old pipes, cigars, and books + Of bachelordom,--rare life of ease,-- + Rare friends, rare wines, rare cooks. + + 'Twill smell of stale tobacco smoke + Ere many days I fear, + And hear full many a rattling joke, + And feel, perhaps, a tear. + + Why is it here? Alas for me! + I broke it at a ball. + "Apologize--repair it" See? + Five dollars gone,--that's all. + + + + +Certainty. + + Phyllis, love may be for you, + But it is not for me; + For fortune comes between us two, + And says it must not be. + + Another fellow's fortune, too; + A million, as I know. + You ask me how I found it out? + Your mater told me so. + + + + +Caught. + + When Phyllis turned her eyes on me + I blushed and hesitated; + For though on terms familiar, we + Were not at all related. + + I felt her mild, reproachful glance, + And knew her words would rankle. + To tell the truth, I had, by chance, + Been looking at her ankle. + + + + +An Important Distinction. + + She said, without a single sigh, + And hardly hesitation, + That she would be my sister, aye, + Or any fond relation. + + I answered cunningly, "Ah me, + I've sisters by the dozen; + Please make it in the next degree, + For one may wed a cousin." + + + + +Two Kinds. + + Oh, her eyes, her beautiful eyes! + How they melt when she sobs or she sighs! + How they droop + When she blushes! + How they flash + When she crushes + The love she's compelled to disguise! + + Oh, her i's, her beautiful i's! + Who can tell them apart though he tries + From her m's + Or her e's, + N's, or u's + As you please + In her letters? I offer a prize. + + + + +What it Is. + + Just a little melancholy, + Just a tear or two, + Just a word that's naughty, + Just a spiteful "pooh!" + + Just an extra cocktail, + Just a flower-bill due, + Just another ring to take + Unto my friend, the Jew. + That is what it is to be + Rejected, Miss, by you. + + + + +In her Pew. + + She looked up from her pew + (Why she did, Heaven knows); + But I smiled; wouldn't you? + 'T was the right thing to do; + And, pshaw, nobody knew. + Then I tried hard to pose, + But a look of hers froze + All my blood. And I woo + Her in future, old chappie, when not in her pew. + + + + +The Suspicious Lover to the Star. + + O silver star, + That seeth far, + Tell my poor heart what she is doing; + And ease my pain, + Who would again + Be at her side, and still be wooing. + + Does she regret + The token set + By me upon her slender finger? + Or in the dance + Do her eyes glance + At it sometimes,--and sometimes linger? + + Be, silver star, + Particular, + And do not be afraid of hurting. + I know her well, + And truth to tell, + I fear my lady love is flirting. + + + + +A Slight Surprise. + + Come, lovely Laura! strike the lyre, + And I will sing a song to thee + That will thy maiden heart inspire + With love, and love alone for me. + + Why hesitate? Come, strike the lyre! + Down where the chord is minor D. + Of wooing thee I'll never tire. + Good gracious! Why do you strike me? + + + + +Past vs. Present. + + Through all the days I courted her + My memory fondly floats, + When love and I exhorted her + To read, re-read my notes. + + But now I love her ten times more, + And my soul fairly gloats + To think that my hard times are o'er,-- + For now she pays my notes. + + + + +The Usual Way. + + Three young maidens sat in a row, + With three grim dragons behind 'em; + And each of these maidens had a young beau, + And they all of 'em made 'em mind 'em. + + These three maidens are married now; + In three brown-stone fronts you'll find 'em. + But ever since the very first row + They can none of 'em make 'em mind 'em. + + + + +A Difference in Style. + + Sweet Phyllis sat upon a stile, + With love and me beside her, + Her red lips in a pouting smile. + A pout? Her eyes belied her. + + My thoughts were merry as the day,-- + And though the joke was shocking,-- + I shouted quick, and turned away: + "A spider's on your stocking!" + + The fun, of course, I did not see, + But heard an exclamation + That sounded much like "Gracious me!" + And guessed the consternation. + + Then Phyllis sat upon the style + Of men who would deride her; + But she no longer sits the while + With love and me beside her. + + + + +Afraid. + + Down the broad stairs, + Stranger to cares, + My love comes tripping and smiling and free; + The snows on her breast + Are a blush unconfessed. + I wonder what fate has in waiting for me? + + My heart seems to throb + Like a broken-paced cob; + I fear I'm a coward in love, as they say. + She's commencing to laugh; + How the fellows will chaff. + By Jove, I'm not going to ask her to-day. + + + + +Ye Retort Exasperating. + + "Sweete maide," ye lovesicke youthe remarked, + "Thou'rt fickle as my star! + By far ye worste I ever sparked, + You are! You really are! + + Albeit yt my brains are nil, + I'm gallante as can be; + I'lle be to you whate'er you wille, + If you'lle be more to me." + + "Faire youthe," ye maide replied, "I do + Not barter, as a rule, + But I'lle be sister untoe you,-- + Be you my Aprille foole." + + + + +A Rhyming Reverie. + + It was a dainty lady's glove; + A souvenir to rhyme with love. + + It was the memory of a kiss, + So called to make it rhyme with bliss. + + There was a month at Mt. Desert, + Synonymous and rhymes with flirt. + + A pretty girl and lots of style, + Which rhymes with happy for a while. + + There came a rival old and bold, + To make him rhyme with gold and sold. + + A broken heart there had to be. + Alas, the rhyme just fitted me. + + + + +A Sure Winner. + + Oh, treat me not with cold disdain, + My pretty maids of fashion; + Look upon the hearts you've slain, + And listen to my passion. + + Though I am not so peerly proud + As men of higher station, + So handsome that the madding crowd + Collects in admiration; + + And have, perhaps, too great a store + Of sandy hair and freckles, + I've mortgages and bonds galore, + And muchly many shekels. + + You yet may journey league or mile + To wed, as you're aware. + Come, cease your longing for mere style, + And take A. MILLIONNAIRE. + + + + +Tantalization. + + She stands beneath the mistletoe + As though she did not know it. + She looks quite unconcerned, you know, + And pretty, yes,--but, blow it, + + I have to turn and walk away; + I'll have revenge anon. + She knows quite well, alack the day, + That my wife is looking on. + + + + +His Usual Fate. + + All one season + Lost to reason, + Breathing sea air + By the beach, where + Young hearts mingle, + Love was playful + All the day full. + We were single. + + Now with mournful + Looks and scornful + Turns he too us; + He is through us, + Worried, harried. + Love is sighing; + Love is dying. + We are married. + + + + +On Two Letters from Her. + + I wrote her a letter. It took her quite two + To answer it after she'd read it. + My letter contained what perhaps even you + Have written,--at least, you have said it. + + My letter contained the old tale of a heart + That longed to be linked to another; + And I told her to think on each separate part, + And ask the advice of her mother. + + She apparently did, for the very next mail + Brought me a message of woe. + It took her two letters; they made me turn pale; + For they were the letters "N" "O". + + + + +A Serenade--en Deux Langues. + + Sous le maple, mort de night, + Avec le lune beams shining through, + Ecoutez-moi, mon hapless plight. + Je vous aime--qui lovez-vous? + + Je plink les strings de mon guitar. + Il fait bien froid; J'am nervous, too. + Dites-moi, dites-moi ce que vous are? + Je vous aime; qui lovez-vous? + + Tu es si belle, je veux vous wed. + Mon père est riche--comme riche est you? + Bonne nuit, adieu; J'ai cold in head. + Je vous aime--qui lovez-vous. + + + + +When a Girl says "No." + + When a girl says "Yes," + There's a quick caress, + A kiss, a sigh, + A melting eye. + There's a vision of things + That hard cash brings,-- + A winter at Nice + With a servant apiece, + A long yachting cruise, + Name in "personal news," + Plenty of wine, + Two hours to dine; + But it's different quite when a girl says "No." + + When a girl says "No," + It's so different, oh! + No kiss, ten sighs, + Two tear-dimmed eyes. + There's a vision of things + That poverty brings,-- + A winter complete + On Uneasy Street, + A temptation to rob, + A twelve-dollar job, + A boarding-house meal, + And you pray a new deal; + For it's different quite when a girl says "No." + + + + +Uncertainty. + + Jenny has a laughing eye, + Yet she is most wondrous shy. + But why? + + Jenny says she hates the men; + Still she'll marry. Artful Jen! + But when? + + I've a rival who is rich; + With one of us sweet Jen will hitch. + But which? + + + + +Her Peculiarities. + +_The Question of the Learned Man_. + + How doth the little blushing maid + Employ each shining hour? + Doth she, in sober thought arrayed, + Learn knowledge that is power? + + Say, doth she mend her father's socks, + And cook his evening meal? + And doth she make her own sweet frocks + With adolescent zeal? + + + + +_The Reply of the Observant Youth_. + + Not much; not much. She knows it all; + She doth not need to learn. + She thinks of naught but rout or ball, + And which youth will be her'n. + + She hustles for a diamond ring; + She cares not for her dad. + She does not make him anything,-- + Except, she makes him mad. + + + + +Tying the Strings of her Shoe. + + Tying the strings of her shoe, + With only the moon to see me. + Could I be quick? Could you? + That is the time to woo + What would any one do? + I tied no knot that would free me, + Tying the strings of her shoe, + With only the moon to see me. + + + + +When You are Rejected. + + Don't say + "Good day," + Then grab the door and slam it. + Be quite + Polite; + Go out, and then say, "---- it." + + + + +A Bachelor's Views. + + A pipe, a book, + A cosy nook, + A fire,--at least its embers; + A dog, a glass;-- + 'T is thus we pass + Such hours as one remembers. + + Who'd wish to wed? + Poor Cupid's dead + These thousand years, I wager. + The modern maid + Is but a jade, + Not worth the time to cage her. + + In silken gown + To "take" the town + Her first and last ambition. + What good is she + To you or me + Who have but a "position"? + + So let us drink + To her,--but think + Of him who has to keep her; + And _sans_ a wife + Let's spend our life + In bachelordom,--it's cheaper. + + + + +My Cigarette. + + Ma pauvre petite, + My little sweet, + Why do you cry? + Why this small tear, + So pure and clear, + In each blue eye? + + 'My cigarette-- + I'm smoking yet?' + (I'll be discreet.) + I toss it, see, + Away from me + Into the street. + + You see I do + All things for you. + Come, let us sup. + (But oh, what joy + To be that boy + Who picked it up.) + + + + +Discovered. + +AN EPISODE ON BEACON HILL. + + You are frowning; + I don't wonder. + Reading Browning; + Hard as thunder! + + Oh, excuse me; + You adore it? + You amuse me; + I abhor it. + + Let me see it. + Who has taught you? + Now to me it-- + Ah, I've caught you. + + It _must_ be hard so + (Hence the frown?) + To read the bard so-- + Upside down. + + + + +The Ice in the Punch. + + The wail of the 'cello is soft, sweet, and low; + There are strains of romance in the thrumming banjo. + The violin's note--feel it float in your ear; + And the harp makes one fancy that angels are near. + + The voice of a young girl can reach to the heart; + The song of the baritone--well, it is art. + The flute and the lute in gavotte--the guitar + In soft serenade--how entrancing they are! + But to all the mad millions + Who dance at cotillons + There's naught like the clink and the clank and the crunch + Of the ice in the punch. + + So here's to the recipe, ancient in Spain, + And here's to the basket of cobwebbed champagne. + Again to the genius who grows the sharp spice, + But ten times to King Winter who furnishes ice; + For to all the mad millions + Who dance at cotillons + There's naught like the clink and the clank and the crunch + Of the ice in the punch. + + + + +The Tale of a Broken Heart. + + She was a + Beautiful, + Dutiful, + Grand, + And rollicking queen of Bohemia, + With a cheek that was + Rosier, + Cosier, + And + As soft as a lily, and creamier. + + She was always com- + pelling me, + Selling me, + I + Was her slave, but she treated me shamefully. + She went on the + Stage, was a + Rage, as a-- + Why-- + As a page, and they spoke of her blamefully. + And then in the + Papers her + Capers were + Writ. + + I love her no longer,--I swear it; + But I oft spend a + Dollar and + Holler and + Sit + Through her antics. Oh, how can I bear it? + + + + +Where did you get it? + + Pray, ladies, ye of wondrous clothes, + That draw admiring "ahs!" and "ohs!" + And "By Joves!" as men chat, + Permit me,--love the right bestows,-- + Where did you get that hat? + + The very hat, sweet maids, I mean, + So often now on Broadway seen, + That is so very flat; + Black as a rule, but sometimes green. + Where did you get that hat? + + In shape an oyster-dish,--the crown,-- + A ribbon bristles up and down, + Quite striking--yes, all that; + The sweetest, neatest thing in town! + Where _did_ you get that hat? + + + + +No + + "No!" The word + Fell upon my ears + Like the knell of a funeral bell. + I had fondly expected + A whispered "yes" that + Would steal into my soul + Like the song of an angel + From some distant Aidenn. + I arose and brushed off + The knees of my trousers. + "Farewell," I said; "you have ruined my life." + "Nonsense," she replied in the cold, cutting voice + Of a woman who has been used to $100 bills + And a coupé; + + "There have been thirty-seven before you, and they + Are all married and happy now. + You see I know all about young men." + "I do not think a young, timid girl + Should 'No' so much," I answered. And going out + (Carefully escorted by the butler, for there was + A better overcoat than mine in the hall), + I left her alone and unloved,--with no one to care for her + Save a couple of dozen servants + And a doting father and mother. + + + + +A Midsummer Night's Tempest. + +AN EPILOGUE TO HAMLET, PERFORMED BY AMATEURS. + +SCENE: _Elsinore--a platform before the castle (on an improvised stage). +Inky darkness. Shade of Hamlet (solus)_. + + _Shade of Hamlet_: Oh, did you see him, did you see the knave, + The spindle-shanked, low-browed, and cock-eyed + Clerk to an attorney, play at Hamlet, + Dream-souled Hamlet, wearing an eyeglass? + Oh, it was horrible. + + (_Enter Shade of Laertes_.) + + _Shade of Laertes_: What's the matter with Hamlet? + + _S. of H._: He's not all right. + No, by the fame of Shakespeare, he's all wrong. + A certain convocation of talented amateurs + Are e'en at him. + Your amateur is your only emperor for talent; + There's not a genius in the universe + Who will essay as much. + + _S. of L._: Or, who will imitate nature so abominably. + Your head is level, Ham., and I--even I, + Laertes, suffered at the hands of one + Whose fiery hair, parted in the middle + Like a cranberry pie, caused me to believe + That some of nature's journeymen had made a man, + And not made him well, he imitated nature + So abominably. + + _S. of H._: Ha' the fair Ophelia! + + _(Enter Shade of Ophelia_.) + + _S. of O._: Yes, my lord, thine own Ophelia, + Come back to earth with heaviness o' grief + Thy madness ne'er begot, for I have seen + The efforts of a lisping, smirking maid, + As graceful as a bean-pole, and as lean. + Attempt to paint the sorrow of my heart. + Oh, I would get me to a nunnery. + + _S of H._: Let me Ophelyour pulse. + Mad--quite mad; and all because + A creature whom these mortals call a Miss, + Quite properly, as her efforts are amiss, + Would fain portray thee. Soft you, now! + O fair Ophelia. Nymph in thine orisons + Be all her sins remembered. + Why let the stricken deer go weep, + The untrained amateur play? + All those that watch must surely weep. + So wise men stay away. + + (_Flickering blue lights and curtain_.) + + + + +The Abused Gallant. + + Two lovely maidens (woe is me!) + Play tennis with my heart; + And each is wondrous fair to see, + And each is wondrous smart. + + In learning, money, beauty, birth, + None can surpass them--none. + But each receives my "court" with mirth, + And tells the other one. + + My "court"! The term is fitly used-- + A tennis court, you see. + And I know well I am abused, + By the "racket" they give me. + + Maud strikes my heart a brutal blow, + And Mabel cries out, "Fault!" + And back and forth I undergo + A feminine assault. + + Maud asks my age. Alas! I hear + Sweet Mabel say, "The goose + Is very nearly forty, dear." + Maud answers, "Oh, 'the deuce'!" + + And so my poor heart with their wit + Is volleyed oft and oft, + Till Mabel cries, while holding it, + "This heart is far too soft." + + And firing it into the net, + She says, with girlish vim, + "Although he isn't in our 'set,' + We're making 'game' of him." + + And making game they are, I swear + By all the saints above, + With all the terms of tennis there + Save but the sweetest, "love." + + + + +After the Ball. + + A last word in the vestibule, + A touch of taper fingers, + A scent of roses, sweet and cool, + When she has gone still lingers. + + He pauses at the carriage door + To sigh a bit and ponder + He thinks the matter o'er and o'er, + And all his senses wander. + + With mantle thrown aside in haste, + Her heart a bit uncertain, + And neither time nor love to waste, + She watches through the curtain. + + And she has played him well, he knows + Nor has he dared to stop her. + She wonders when he will propose; + He wonders how he'll drop her. + + + + +Vanity Fair. + + Oh, whence, oh, where + Is Vanity Fair? + I want to be seen with the somebodies there. + I've money and beauty and college-bred brains; + Though my 'scutcheon's not spotless, who'll mind a few stains? + To caper I wish in the chorus of style, + And wed an aristocrat after a while + So please tell me truly, and please tell me fair, + Just how many miles it's from Madison Square. + + It's here, it's there, + Is Vanity Fair. + It's not like a labyrinth, not like a lair. + It's North and it's South, and it's East and it's West; + You can see it, oh, anywhere, quite at its best. + Dame Fashion is queen, Ready Money is king, + You can join it, provided you don't know a thing. + It's miles over here, and it's miles over there; + And it's not seven inches from Madison Square. + + + + +For the Long Voyage. + + "Were I a captain bold," I said, + And gently clasped her hand, + "Wouldst sail with me, by fancy led, + To every foreign strand? + + "Wouldst help me furl my silver sail, + And be my trusty crew? + Wouldst stand by in the midnight gale, + My pilot tried and true?" + + "Well, no," she answered, blushing red, + "Such heavy work I hate. + But,"--listen what the maiden said,-- + "I would be your first mate." + + + + + This is the end. + + The printing was + done by John Wilson + & Son, Cambridge + for + Fredrick A. Stokes + Company + New York + MDCCCICVIII + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's When hearts are trumps, by Thomas Winthrop Hall + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11711 *** diff --git a/11711-h/11711-h.htm b/11711-h/11711-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a3be444 --- /dev/null +++ b/11711-h/11711-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4318 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> + +<html> +<head> + <meta name="generator" content= + "HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org"> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=UTF-8"> + + <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of When Hearts Are Trumps, by Tom Hall.</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ + <!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* footnote */ + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; justify: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: smaller; float: right; clear: right;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 8em;} + .poem p.i12 {margin-left: 12em} + .poem .caesura {vertical-align: -200%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11711 ***</div> + + <h1>When Hearts are Trumps</h1> + + <h3>By</h3> + + <h2>Tom Hall</h2> + + <p style="text-align: center;"><i>New York</i></p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Frederick A. Stokes</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Company</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Publishers</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Frederick H. Stokes</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Company</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Sixth Edition</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">September 1898</p><br> + + <p><i>The verses in this volume have been selected from work that + has appeared in various periodicals during the past five years. + Especially to the editors of</i> LIFE, TRUTH, TOWN TOPICS, VOGUE, + <i>and</i> MUNSEY'S MAGAZINE <i>I have to offer my thanks for + their permission to republish the majority of them</i>.</p> + + <p><i>T.H.</i></p> + + <p>NEW YORK, February 1, 1894.</p> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Contents"></a> + + <h2>Contents.</h2><a href="#Kings"><b>Kings & Queens & + Bowers.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The-Perfect-Face"><b>The Perfect Face.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The-Moonlight_Sonata"><b>The Moonlight + Sonata.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Kiss"><b>The Kiss</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Bride"><b>The Bride.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Problem"><b>A Problem.</b></a><br> + <a href="#To_Phyllis_Reading_a_Letter"><b>To Phyllis Reading a + Letter.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Rose_from_her_hair"><b>A Rose from her + hair.</b></a><br> + <a href="#When_I_told_her_my_Love"><b>When I told her my + Love.</b></a><br> + <a href="#My_Lady_you_Blushed"><b>My Lady, you + Blushed.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_American_Slave"><b>The American Slave.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Sell_HermdashThats_Right"><b>Sell Her,—That's + Right.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Time_and_Place"><b>Time and Place.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Blood_on_the_Rose"><b>Blood on the Rose.</b></a><br> + <a href="#In_Old_Madrid"><b>In Old Madrid.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Duel"><b>The Duel.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Shroud"><b>The Shroud.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Loves_Return"><b>Love's Return.</b></a><br> + <a href="#One_Wish"><b>One Wish.</b></a><br> + <a href="#For_Me"><b>For Me.</b></a><br> + <a href="#To_a_Water-color"><b>To a Water-color.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Serenade"><b>The Serenade.</b></a><br> + <a href="#To_the_Rose_in_her_hair"><b>To the Rose in her + hair.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Her_Reverie"><b>Her Reverie.</b></a><br> + <a href="#To_Beauty"><b>To Beauty.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Dreaming_of_You"><b>Dreaming of You.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Please_Return"><b>Please Return.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Almost_Dying_of_Ennui"><b>Almost Dying of + Ennui.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Jacks_from_Jack"><b>Jacks from Jack.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Hyacinths"><b>Hyacinths.</b></a><br> + <a href="#In_The_Waltz"><b>In The Waltz.</b></a><br> + <a href="#She_Is_Mine"><b>She Is Mine.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Old_Times"><b>Old Times.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Of_My_Love"><b>Of My Love.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Farewell"><b>The Farewell.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Last_Dance"><b>The Last Dance.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Why_he_asked_for_a_Vacation"><b>Why he asked for a + Vacation.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Editors_Valentine"><b>The Editor's + Valentine.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Acting"><b>Acting.</b></a><br> + <a href="#An_Apache_Love-Song"><b>An Apache + Love-Song.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Old-fashioned_Girl"><b>The Old-fashioned + Girl.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Retrospect"><b>A Retrospect.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Hard_Hit"><b>Hard Hit.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Rejected"><b>Rejected.</b></a><br> + <br> + <a href="#Jokers"><b>Jokers</b></a><br> + <a href="#Her_Yachting_Cap"><b>Her Yachting Cap.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Theft"><b>Theft.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Before_her_Mirror"><b>Before her Mirror.</b></a><br> + <a href="#At_Old_Point_Comfort"><b>At Old Point + Comfort.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Drop_Too_Much"><b>A Drop Too Much.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Ingratitude"><b>Ingratitude.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Few_Resolutions"><b>A Few Resolutions.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Dilemma"><b>A Dilemma.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Choice_not_Necessary"><b>A Choice not + Necessary.</b></a><br> + <a href="#That_Boston_Girl"><b>That Boston Girl.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Hero"><b>The Hero.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Sweet_Summer_Girl"><b>The Sweet Summer + Girl.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Her_Fan"><b>Her Fan.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Certainty"><b>Certainty.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Caught"><b>Caught.</b></a><br> + <a href="#An_Important_Distinction"><b>An Important + Distinction.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Two_Kinds"><b>Two Kinds.</b></a><br> + <a href="#What_it_Is"><b>What it Is.</b></a><br> + <a href="#In_her_Pew"><b>In her Pew.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Suspicious_Lover_to_the_Star"><b>The Suspicious + Lover to the Star.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Slight_Surprise"><b>A Slight Surprise.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Past_vs_Present"><b>Past vs. Present.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Usual_Way"><b>The Usual Way.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Difference_in_Style"><b>A Difference in + Style.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Afraid"><b>Afraid.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Ye_Retort_Exasperating"><b>Ye Retort + Exasperating.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Rhyming_Reverie"><b>A Rhyming Reverie.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Sure_Winner"><b>A Sure Winner.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Tantalization"><b>Tantalization.</b></a><br> + <a href="#His_Usual_Fate"><b>His Usual Fate.</b></a><br> + <a href="#On_Two_Letters_from_Her"><b>On Two Letters from + Her.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Serenademdashen_Deux_Langues"><b>A Serenade—en + Deux Langues.</b></a><br> + <a href="#When_a_Girl_says_quotNoquot"><b>When a Girl says + "No."</b></a><br> + <a href="#Uncertainty"><b>Uncertainty.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Her_Peculiarities"><b>Her Peculiarities.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Reply_of_the_Observant_Youth"><b><i>The Reply of + the Observant Youth</i>.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Tying_the_Strings_of_her_Shoe"><b>Tying the Strings of + her Shoe.</b></a><br> + <a href="#When_You_are_Rejected"><b>When You are + Rejected.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Bachelors_Views"><b>A Bachelor's Views.</b></a><br> + <a href="#My_Cigarette"><b>My Cigarette.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Discovered"><b>Discovered.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Ice_in_the_Punch"><b>The Ice in the + Punch.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Tale_of_a_Broken_Heart"><b>The Tale of a Broken + Heart.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Where_did_you_get_it"><b>Where did you get + it?</b></a><br> + <a href="#No"><b>No</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Midsummer_Nights_Tempest"><b>A Midsummer Night's + Tempest.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Abused_Gallant"><b>The Abused Gallant.</b></a><br> + <a href="#After_the_Ball"><b>After the Ball.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Vanity_Fair"><b>Vanity Fair.</b></a><br> + <a href="#For_the_Long_Voyage"><b>For the Long + Voyage.</b></a><br> + <hr> + <a name="Kings"></a> + + <h2>Kings<br> + &<br> + Queens<br> + &<br> + Bowers</h2><br> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The-Perfect-Face"></a> + + <h2>The Perfect Face.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The Graces, on a summer day,</p> + + <p>Grew serious for a moment; yea,</p> + + <p>They thought in rivalry to trace</p> + + <p>The outline of a perfect face.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Each used a rosebud for a brush,</p> + + <p>And, while it glowed with sunset's blush,</p> + + <p>Each painted on the evening sky,</p> + + <p>And each a star used for the eye.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They finished. Each a curtaining cloud</p> + + <p>Drew back, and each exclaimed aloud:</p> + + <p>"Behold, we three have drawn the same,</p> + + <p>From the same model!" Ah, her name?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I know. I saw the pictures grow.</p> + + <p>I saw them falter, fade, and go.</p> + + <p>I know the model. Oft she lures</p> + + <p>My heart. The face, my sweet, was yours.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The-Moonlight_Sonata"></a> + + <h2>The Moonlight Sonata.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The notes still float upon the air,</p> + + <p class="i4">Just as they did that night.</p> + + <p>I see the old piano there,—</p> + + <p class="i4">Oh, that again I might!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Her young voice haunts my eager ear;</p> + + <p class="i4">Her hair in the candle-light</p> + + <p>Still seems an aureole,—a tear</p> + + <p class="i4">Is my spectroscope to-night.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I hear her trembling tell me "No,"</p> + + <p class="i4">And I know that she answered right</p> + + <p>But I throw a kiss to the stars, and though</p> + + <p class="i4">She be wed she will dream to-night.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Kiss"></a> + + <h2>The Kiss</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Over the green fields, over the snow,</p> + + <p>Something I send thee, something I throw.</p> + + <p>No one can guess it; no one can know.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Light as a feather, quick as the eye;</p> + + <p>Thin as a sunbeam, deep as the sky;</p> + + <p>Worthless, but something a queen could not buy.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, you have caught it, love! How do I know?</p> + + <p>Sweet, there are secrets lost ages ago.</p> + + <p>Lovers learn all of them. Smile not,—'tis so.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Bride"></a> + + <h2>The Bride.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Before her mirror, robed in spotless white,</p> + + <p class="i2">She stands and, wondering, looks at her own + face,</p> + + <p class="i2">Amazed at its new loveliness and grace.</p> + + <p>Smiling and blushing at the pretty sight,</p> + + <p>So fraught is she with innocent delight,</p> + + <p class="i2">She feels the tender thrill of his embrace</p> + + <p class="i2">Crushing her lilies into flowery lace;</p> + + <p>Then sighs and starts, even as though from fright.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then fleets before her eyes the happy past;</p> + + <p class="i2">She turns from it with petulant disdain,</p> + + <p class="i2">And tries to read the future,—but in + vain.</p> + + <p>Blank are its pages from the first to last.</p> + + <p>She hears faint music, smiles, and leaves the room</p> + + <p>Just as one rosebud more bursts into bloom.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Problem"></a> + + <h2>A Problem.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Give you a problem for your midnight toil,—</p> + + <p class="i2">One you can study till your hair is white</p> + + <p class="i2">And never solve and never guess aright,</p> + + <p>Although you burn to dregs your midnight oil?</p> + + <p>O Sage, I give one that will make you moil.</p> + + <p class="i2">Just take one weakling little woman's + heart.</p> + + <p class="i2">Prepare your patience, furbish up your art.</p> + + <p>How now? Did I not see you then recoil?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Tell me how many times it has known pain;</p> + + <p class="i2">Tell me what thing will make it feel + delight;</p> + + <p>Tell me when it is modest, when 'tis vain;</p> + + <p class="i2">Tell me when it is wrong and when 'tis + right:</p> + + <p>But tell me this, all other things above,—</p> + + <p>Can it feel, Sage, the thing that man calls "Love"?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="To_Phyllis_Reading_a_Letter"></a> + + <h2>To Phyllis Reading a Letter.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A smile is curving o'er her creamy cheek,</p> + + <p class="i2">Her bosom swells with all a lover's joy,</p> + + <p class="i2">When love receives a message that the coy</p> + + <p>Young love-god made a strong and true heart speak</p> + + <p>From far-off lands; and like a mountain-peak</p> + + <p class="i2">That loses in one avalanche its cloy</p> + + <p class="i2">Of ice and snow, so doth her breast employ</p> + + <p>Its hidden store of blushes; and they wreak</p> + + <p>Destruction, as they crush my aching heart,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Destruction, wild, relentless, and as sure</p> + + <p>As the poor Alpine hamlet's; and no art</p> + + <p class="i2">Can hide my agony, no herb can cure</p> + + <p>My wound. Her very blush says, "We must part."</p> + + <p class="i2">Why was it always my fate to endure?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Rose_from_her_hair"></a> + + <h2>A Rose from her hair.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She gave me a rose from her hair,</p> + + <p class="i2">And she hid her young heart within it.</p> + + <p>I could hardly speak from despair,</p> + + <p>Till she gave that rose from her hair,</p> + + <p>And leaned out over the stair</p> + + <p class="i2">With a blush as she stooped to pin it.</p> + + <p>She gave me a rose from her hair,</p> + + <p class="i2">And she hid her young heart within it.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="When_I_told_her_my_Love"></a> + + <h2>When I told her my Love.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When I told her my love,</p> + + <p class="i2">She was maidenly shy,</p> + + <p>And she bit at her glove.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I gave Cupid a shove;</p> + + <p class="i2">Yes, I begged him to try,</p> + + <p>When I told her my love</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What was she thinking of</p> + + <p class="i2">As she uttered that sigh</p> + + <p>And she bit at her glove?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And pray what does it prove</p> + + <p class="i2">That she stopped there to sigh,</p> + + <p>When I told her my love</p> + + <p>And she bit at her glove?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="My_Lady_you_Blushed"></a> + + <h2>My Lady, you Blushed.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My lady, you blushed.</p> + + <p class="i2">Was my love a surprise?</p> + + <p>How quickly they hushed!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A curl of yours brushed</p> + + <p class="i2">All else from my eyes.</p> + + <p>My lady, you blushed.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You say that I gushed,</p> + + <p class="i2">And they all heard my sighs?</p> + + <p>How quickly they hushed!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your roses were crushed;</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>N'importe</i> wherefores and whys.</p> + + <p>My lady, you blushed.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_American_Slave"></a> + + <h2>The American Slave.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Come, muster your pleasantest smile, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">And put on your prettiest gown.</p> + + <p>Forget about Jack for a while, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">His lordship has just come to town.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He's come here to get him a wife, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">And you have been put up for sale</p> + + <p>With a marvellous income for life, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">To balance your side of the scale.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>His lordship is feeble and old, my dear,—</p> + + <p class="i2">What odds? All the sooner he'll die.</p> + + <p>And he has a sore need of your gold, my dear:</p> + + <p class="i2">See the good you can do if you'll try.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And then a real lady you'll be, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Not only by nature but name;</p> + + <p>Mamma'll be so proud,—you can see, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">No one thinks it, as you do, a shame.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So bend your proud head. Are you faint, my dear?</p> + + <p class="i2">Keep the tears back, be buoyant and brave.</p> + + <p>Keep that pose! Now a portrait we'll paint, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">To be called "The American Slave."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Sell_HermdashThats_Right"></a> + + <h2>Sell Her,—That's Right.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sell her,—that's right! She is young, she is + fair;</p> + + <p>There's the light of the sun in the coils of her hair.</p> + + <p>And her soul is as white as the first flakes of snow</p> + + <p>That are falling to-night. 'T is a bargain, a "go"</p> + + <p class="i2">Sell her,—that's right!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sell her,—that's right! For a bag full of gold.</p> + + <p>Put her down in your ledger, and label her "Sold"</p> + + <p>She's only a beauty with somebody's name,</p> + + <p>And the Church for a pittance will wash out the shame.</p> + + <p class="i2">Sell her,—that's right!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Time_and_Place"></a> + + <h2>Time and Place.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Hasten on! The mad moonlight is beaming</p> + + <p class="i2">On the hatred and love 'twixt us two;</p> + + <p>And it beams on the maid who is dreaming,</p> + + <p class="i2">And the grave made for me or for you.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Time and place,—love and life in the balance,</p> + + <p class="i2">Fear and hope in the glance of your eye.</p> + + <p>Draw your blade! Forget not we are gallants</p> + + <p class="i2">Who can laugh at our fate as we die.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>On your guard! There'll be blood on the metal</p> + + <p class="i2">Ere she wakes from her innocent dreams;</p> + + <p>There's a long list of kisses to settle,</p> + + <p class="i2">And some love sighs and death sighs, it + seems.</p> + + <p>Bare your arm! Strike for life and the maiden!</p> + + <p class="i2">Take that! You are cautious, I fear</p> + + <p>Speed the blow,—'tis with happiness laden</p> + + <p class="i2">For him who does not remain here</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>That and that! I am wounded,—it's over</p> + + <p class="i2">Those kisses were destined for you;</p> + + <p>But now she is yours and you love her,</p> + + <p class="i2">Go tell her that I loved her too</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Blood_on_the_Rose"></a> + + <h2>Blood on the Rose.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Is it dew on the rose?</p> + + <p class="i2">'T is the same that I gave him</p> + + <p>Last night when I chose</p> + + <p class="i2">To warn him and save him;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>That he pinned on his breast</p> + + <p class="i2">With a smile at his danger,</p> + + <p>And a smile, not in jest,</p> + + <p class="i2">That was sweeter and stranger</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Here are footprints of foes!</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh, my heart!--I can feel</p> + + <p>It is blood on the rose</p> + + <p class="i2">And a sliver of steel.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="In_Old_Madrid"></a> + + <h2>In Old Madrid.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I strolled the streets in quest of any love,</p> + + <p class="i2">In old Madrid long centuries ago;</p> + + <p>I caught the perfume of a scented glove,</p> + + <p class="i2">I saw a sweet face in a portico.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She laughed—then paled. She leaned out; whispered, + "Fly!"</p> + + <p class="i2">And then I felt the sting of steel, the + hiss</p> + + <p>Of curses in my ear, and knew that I</p> + + <p class="i2">Had forfeited my life—and lost a + kiss.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Duel"></a> + + <h2>The Duel.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ten paces—one, two, three, and fire!</p> + + <p>Two gallants have their heart's desire.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>One of them dies, the other laughs;</p> + + <p>The seconds smile, the doctor chaffs.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A woman, smiling, dreams she's wed</p> + + <p>To—hush, to the very one that's dead.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Shroud"></a> + + <h2>The Shroud.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The snow came softly, silently, down</p> + + <p>Into the streets of the dark old town;</p> + + <p>And lo! by the wind it was swept and piled</p> + + <p>On the sleeping form of a beggar-child.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It kissed her cheek, and it filled her hair</p> + + <p>With crystals that looked like diamonds there;</p> + + <p>And she dreamed that she was a fair young bride</p> + + <p>In a pure white dress by her husband's side.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A blush crept over her pale young face,</p> + + <p>And her thin lips smiled with a girlish grace;</p> + + <p>But the old storm-king made his boast aloud</p> + + <p>That his work that night was weaving a shroud.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Loves_Return"></a> + + <h2>Love's Return.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Love has come back—ah me, the joy!—</p> + + <p class="i2">Greater than when Love began</p> + + <p>To wound my heart. The jocund boy!</p> + + <p class="i2">Love has come back a gray-haired man.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>His eyes are red with tears of woe,</p> + + <p class="i2">His cheeks are pale, and his heart is sore;</p> + + <p>But Love has come back at last, and, oh!</p> + + <p class="i2">Love will be faithful evermore.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="One_Wish"></a> + + <h2>One Wish.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My thoughts are gliding down the stream,</p> + + <p class="i2">Ah, faster than the river flows;</p> + + <p>And idly in my heart I dream</p> + + <p class="i2">Of islands where the lotus grows.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I fear not rapids, waterfall,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or whirlpool leading down to death,</p> + + <p>If love but my tired heart enthrall,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I may sip a woman's breath.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I care not what may be my fate.</p> + + <p class="i2">Roll on, mad river, to the sea;</p> + + <p>Drown all ambition, pride, and hate,—</p> + + <p class="i2">But leave one woman's love to me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="For_Me"></a> + + <h2>For Me.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I heard her song,</p> + + <p class="i2">Low in the night,</p> + + <p>From out her casement steal away,</p> + + <p class="i2">Nor thought it wrong</p> + + <p class="i2">To steal a sight</p> + + <p>Of her—and lo! she knelt to pray.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">I heard her say,</p> + + <p class="i2">"Forgive him, Lord;</p> + + <p>Such as he seems he cannot be."</p> + + <p class="i2">I turned away,</p> + + <p class="i2">Myself abhorred.</p> + + <p>She prayed—and oh! she prayed for me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="To_a_Water-color"></a> + + <h2>To a Water-color.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sweet Phyllis, maid of yesterday,</p> + + <p class="i2">Come down from out that frame,</p> + + <p>And tell me why you looked so gay—</p> + + <p class="i2">Likewise your other name.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Had bold Sir Plume confessed his love</p> + + <p class="i2">And asked you if you'd wed?</p> + + <p>And had he called you "Lovey-dove"?</p> + + <p class="i2">And how long are you dead?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Where did you get that wondrous gown,</p> + + <p class="i2">Those patches, and that hair?</p> + + <p>And how were things in London town</p> + + <p class="i2">The last time you were there?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And did you die a maid or wife,</p> + + <p class="i2">Your husband lord or knave?</p> + + <p>And how did you like this jolly life?</p> + + <p class="i2">And how do you like the grave?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Serenade"></a> + + <h2>The Serenade.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Under my casement, as I pray,</p> + + <p>My lover sings my cares away</p> + + <p>With many a half-forgotten lay.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He leans against the linden-tree,</p> + + <p>And sings old songs of Arcady</p> + + <p>That he knows well are loved by me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Half through the night the sweet strains float</p> + + <p>Like wind-blown rose-leaves, note by note,</p> + + <p>Over the great wall and the moat,</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Up to my window, till they teem</p> + + <p>Into my soul, and almost seem</p> + + <p>To be there even when I dream.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And his heart trembling beats with bliss</p> + + <p>If I but throw him one small kiss</p> + + <p>Just as I now throw this, and this</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="To_the_Rose_in_her_hair"></a> + + <h2>To the Rose in her hair.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Poor little rose, I pity you—</p> + + <p class="i2">Sweet as Oporto's wind when fruity—</p> + + <p>Tortured an evil hour or two,</p> + + <p class="i2">Just to adorn a wilful beauty.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I know her well, too well, alas!</p> + + <p class="i2">(Just watch the fairy as she dances.)</p> + + <p>She wears my heart—but let that pass;</p> + + <p class="i2">It's dead: she killed it with her glances.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your fate, poor rose, is such as mine,—</p> + + <p class="i2">To be despised when you are faded;</p> + + <p>Yet she's an angel—too divine</p> + + <p class="i2">To be by you or me upbraided.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Her_Reverie"></a> + + <h2>Her Reverie.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A lady combed her silken hair.</p> + + <p>None but a looking-glass would dare</p> + + <p class="i2">To gaze on such a scene.</p> + + <p>The blushes thronged her dimpled cheek;</p> + + <p>They coursed upon her shoulders, eke,</p> + + <p class="i2">And the white neck between.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And she was thinking then, I trow,</p> + + <p>Of one who, in a whispered vow</p> + + <p class="i2">Beneath the budding elm,</p> + + <p>Had told her they would sail their barque</p> + + <p>On lakes where pale stars pierced the dark,</p> + + <p class="i2">With Cupid at the helm.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Anon, a faint smile pursed her lips</p> + + <p>And shook her dainty finger-tips,</p> + + <p class="i2">As breezes shake the boughs;</p> + + <p>And then a quick, impetuous frown</p> + + <p>Came gathering from her ringlets down,</p> + + <p class="i2">And perched upon her brows.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, she was thinking then, I ween,</p> + + <p>Of me, poor clumsy dunce, who e'en</p> + + <p class="i2">Had torn her silken dress.</p> + + <p>I waltzed too near her at the ball;</p> + + <p>Her beauty dazed me—that was all;</p> + + <p class="i2">I felt a dizziness.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="To_Beauty"></a> + + <h2>To Beauty.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Oh, Mistress Beauty," said my sigh,</p> + + <p class="i2">"I'd laugh to scorn all other blisses,</p> + + <p>If you and I might live and die</p> + + <p class="i2">Together on such fare as kisses.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Your kirtle would not be of silk,</p> + + <p class="i2">The band around it but torn leather.</p> + + <p>I think our wine would be plain milk;</p> + + <p class="i2">I think we'd oft see stormy weather.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"But, oh, there are some things in life</p> + + <p class="i2">Worth more to men than fame or money;</p> + + <p>And one of them's a sweet young wife,</p> + + <p class="i2">So pure, so honest, and so bonnie."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Dreaming_of_You"></a> + + <h2>Dreaming of You.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My soul feels refreshed, like a rose kissed by dew,</p> + + <p>When waking I know I've been dreaming of you.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They thought I was mad. Ah, my sweet, if they knew</p> + + <p>That my malady simply was dreaming of you!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I've one wish. 'Tis to sleep all the long ages through</p> + + <p>By your side, you my bride, and I dreaming of you.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Please_Return"></a> + + <h2>Please Return.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now, all you pretty maids in town,</p> + + <p class="i2">Take heed of my sad plight.</p> + + <p>I've lost a kiss; I'll give a crown</p> + + <p class="i2">To get it back to-night.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I threw it, poet-like, I own,</p> + + <p class="i2">Up to a silvery star;</p> + + <p>I must confess I might have known</p> + + <p class="i2">I could not throw so far.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But, oh, surprise! It circled round,</p> + + <p class="i2">And sank as though 't were laden</p> + + <p>With love—when almost to the ground</p> + + <p class="i2">'T was caught by some young maiden.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And that young maid I wish to find.</p> + + <p class="i2">I've lost a kiss, alack!</p> + + <p>It is not hers. She'll not be kind</p> + + <p class="i2">Unless she give it back.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Almost_Dying_of_Ennui"></a> + + <h2>Almost Dying of Ennui.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What are the charms of the sea?</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh for an hour of the city!</p> + + <p>What are the dull waves to me?</p> + + <p class="i2">Can they say anything witty?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What do they care for my lips?</p> + + <p class="i2">Why did I come? It's a pity!</p> + + <p>Nothing but water and ships,</p> + + <p class="i2">And Jack far away in the city.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh for one ride in the park,</p> + + <p class="i2">With Jack humming bars from a ditty;</p> + + <p>Kissing me (when it grows dark).</p> + + <p class="i2">Fy! Oh—heigho, for the city!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Jacks_from_Jack"></a> + + <h2>Jacks from Jack.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Fresh, fragrant, tempting, balmy, red—</p> + + <p class="i2">What fool would send them back?</p> + + <p>Why do I wish that I were dead,</p> + + <p class="i2">With all these jacks from Jack?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Why do I bite my lips and frown,</p> + + <p class="i2">Tear buttons off my sacque,</p> + + <p>When, just returning to the town,</p> + + <p class="i2">I get these jacks from Jack?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Alas, for pleasure's giddy whirl,</p> + + <p class="i2">For summer lost, alack!</p> + + <p>He's off to see some other girl;</p> + + <p class="i2">That's why mere jacks from Jack.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Hyacinths"></a> + + <h2>Hyacinths.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Hyacinths, tenderly sweet,</p> + + <p class="i2">Is it life that you ask in your prayer?</p> + + <p>Ah, I would die at her feet,</p> + + <p class="i2">If I could be one of you there.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There on her billowy breast,</p> + + <p class="i2">So near to her innocent heart,</p> + + <p>That its beating would lull me to rest,</p> + + <p class="i2">And to dream I should never depart.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sighing are you for the stars?</p> + + <p class="i2">Look in the depths of her eyes.</p> + + <p>Is there a gem of the Czar's</p> + + <p class="i2">So much like those gems of the skies?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Is it the dew that you miss?</p> + + <p class="i2">Hyacinths, hyacinths, wait.</p> + + <p>Soon she will give you a kiss.</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh, how I envy your fate!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="In_The_Waltz"></a> + + <h2>In The Waltz.</h2><br> + + <center> + AN ECHO FROM A SEASIDE HOP. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Light as the waves foaming white on the bar,</p> + + <p>We dance to the mandolin, harp, and guitar;</p> + + <p>One, two, three, waltzing we glide round the + room,—</p> + + <p>Would you were bride, and ah, would I were groom!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>On all the seashore none fairer than you;</p> + + <p>What but adore you could any one do?</p> + + <p>Cheeks like the pink of an evening sky,</p> + + <p>Eyes that might bid a man laughingly die.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ears like the shells from the Indian sea,</p> + + <p>Teeth like white buds on a young apple-tree,</p> + + <p>Throat like a lily bent heavy with dew,</p> + + <p>Arms just as white and as lily-like too.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Lips that would tempt—ah! you'll pardon me now,</p> + + <p>Being so near them suggests, you'll allow,</p> + + <p>That the happiest thing e'er a mortal could do,</p> + + <p>Would be to be ever thus waltzing with you.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="She_Is_Mine"></a> + + <h2>She Is Mine.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There's a sparkle in her eye</p> + + <p>That no millionnaire can buy.</p> + + <p>If they think so, let them try—</p> + + <p class="i6">She's divine.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There's a blush upon her cheek</p> + + <p>Like the peach-tree's blossom, eke,</p> + + <p>Like red willows by the creek,</p> + + <p class="i6">Or like wine.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She has roses in her hair.</p> + + <p>It was I who put them there.</p> + + <p>Really, did I ever dare—</p> + + <p class="i6">Is she mine?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Or is it all a dream,—</p> + + <p>Idle poet's empty theme</p> + + <p>Put in words that make it seem</p> + + <p class="i2">Superfine?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No; for see upon her hand</p> + + <p>There's a little golden band,—</p> + + <p>Filigree work, understand,</p> + + <p class="i2">Like a vine;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And a perfect solitaire</p> + + <p>Fits upon it. The affair</p> + + <p>Cost two hundred. I don't care!</p> + + <p class="i2">She is mine.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Old_Times"></a> + + <h2>Old Times.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, good old times of belles and beaux,</p> + + <p>Of powdered wigs and wondrous hose,</p> + + <p>Of stately airs and careful grace,</p> + + <p>Look you at our degenerate race.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No more the gallant spends his time</p> + + <p>In writing of his love in rhyme;</p> + + <p>No more he lives unconscious of</p> + + <p>All earthly things save war and love.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>We modern men have toils and cares</p> + + <p>To streak our pates with whitened hairs,</p> + + <p>And have to crowd our love and all</p> + + <p>Into one short and weekly call.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Of_My_Love"></a> + + <h2>Of My Love.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">Was ever a moon</p> + + <p class="i4">In joyous June</p> + + <p>As royal, radiant, rare as she,</p> + + <p class="i4">With her smiling lips,</p> + + <p class="i4">As she lightly trips</p> + + <p>Down through the autumn woods to me?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">Never a queen</p> + + <p class="i4">On her throne, I ween,</p> + + <p>Had such a loyal slave as I.</p> + + <p class="i4">Ready to bear</p> + + <p class="i4">All her cares, I swear,</p> + + <p>Just for a fleeting kiss on the sly.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">Oh for the day</p> + + <p class="i4">We gallop away</p> + + <p>To the curate's cottage, Gretna Green;</p> + + <p class="i4">Side by side,</p> + + <p class="i4">Groom and bride,</p> + + <p>Happy twenty and sweet sixteen!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Farewell"></a> + + <h2>The Farewell.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Not going abroad? What, to-morrow,</p> + + <p class="i2">And to stay, goodness knows for how long?</p> + + <p>Really, Jack, 'twould appear that dry sorrow</p> + + <p class="i2">Had done even you, sir, a wrong.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It has? Ha, ha, ha! What a joke, sir!</p> + + <p class="i2">Is it Mabel or Jenny or Nell?</p> + + <p>I'm sure you are wrong,—hold my cloak, + sir,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Am I not an old friend? Come now, tell.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The prince of our set broken-hearted!</p> + + <p class="i2">What a joke! Who rejected you? Speak!</p> + + <p>Did you look like that, Jack, when you parted?</p> + + <p class="i2">Was that pallor of death on your cheek?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You interest me. Tell me about it;</p> + + <p class="i2">And let your old chum, sir, console.</p> + + <p>Hard hit in the heart. I don't doubt it;</p> + + <p class="i2">You were made for that sort of a + rôle.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Did you bend on your knee, like an actor,</p> + + <p class="i2">Hardly knowing just where to begin?</p> + + <p>Was dear mamma's consent the main factor?</p> + + <p class="i2">What a fool the poor girl must have been!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Who was she? What!--I?—You were jealous?</p> + + <p class="i2">O, Jack, who'd have thought such a thing?</p> + + <p>You've been certainly not over-zealous.</p> + + <p class="i2">But kiss me—and where is the ring?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Last_Dance"></a> + + <h2>The Last Dance.</h2> + + <center> + AN INCIDENT IN A WINDOW SEAT. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: Well, how many conquests? I fancy a score</p> + + <p>By the flush on your cheeks and your shoulders.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She</i>: A + bore!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: Oh, nonsense; a debutante just out of + school</p> + + <p>Who can rule with a smile what a king could not rule,</p> + + <p>From young Harry, her prince, to myself, her poor + fool!</p> + + <p>Come, tell me, did Harry propose?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She</i>: What a + goose</p> + + <p>You would think me to tell you, and then of what use</p> + + <p>Could it be?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: Well, it might give me hope, where before</p> + + <p>There was none,—quite a boon from the lips you + adore</p> + + <p>When you 're hungry for love.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She (coquetting)</i>: Or who knows but it + might—</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: Yes, it might blot from life every semblance of + light</p> + + <p>As the clouds blot the moon on a storm-troubled night.</p> + + <p>But tell me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She</i>: He did.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: And your + answer was?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She</i>: + No.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: You mean it, or are you coquetting yet?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She</i>: + Oh!</p> + + <p>I just told him I cared for another—he smiled.</p> + + <p>It was merely to him so much pleasure beguiled</p> + + <p>From a girl. Charge it up profit?—loss?—tell + me which?</p> + + <p>He thinks I am pretty, they say, but, not rich.</p> + + <p>He would love me, perhaps, for a season or two,</p> + + <p>So I told him that I loved another.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p> + <i>He</i>: And + who?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She (archly)</i>: Really, must I tell <i>you?</i></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: + No—your + finger—yes, this!</p> + + <p>A solitaire—done! and now quickly!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She (feigning + reluctance)</i>: One!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He + (ecstatically)</i>: Kiss.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Why_he_asked_for_a_Vacation"></a> + + <h2>Why he asked for a Vacation.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Dear Jack:</p> + + <p class="i4">It's delightfully gay here,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Old Paris seemed never so fine,—</p> + + <p>And mamma says we're going to stay here,</p> + + <p class="i2">And papa—well, papa sips his wine</p> + + <p>And says nothing. You know him of old, dear.</p> + + <p class="i2">He's only too happy to rest,—</p> + + <p>After making three millions in gold, dear.</p> + + <p class="i2">He's played out, it must be + confessed,—</p> + + <p>And I—I'm to wed an old Baron</p> + + <p class="i2">Three weeks from to-day, in great style</p> + + <p>(He's as homely and gaunt as old Charon,</p> + + <p class="i2">And they say that his past has been vile);</p> + + <p>And I've promised to cut you hereafter,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Small chance, though, we ever shall + meet,—</p> + + <p>So let's turn our old love into laughter,</p> + + <p class="i2">And face the thing through. Shall we, + sweet?</p> + + <p>Can you give me up, Jack, to this <i>roué</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">Just because we may always be poor?</p> + + <p>There's still enough time, dear, <i>et tu es</i></p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Un brave</i>,—you will come, I am + sure.</p> + + <p>Put your trunk on the swiftest Cunarder,</p> + + <p class="i2">And don't give me up, Jack, for—well,</p> + + <p>There are things in this world that are harder</p> + + <p class="i2">Than poverty. Come to me!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i37">NELL."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Editors_Valentine"></a> + + <h2>The Editor's Valentine.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The editor sat in his old arm-chair</p> + + <p>(Half his work undone he was well aware),</p> + + <p>While the flickering light in the dingy room</p> + + <p>Made the usual newspaper office gloom.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Before him news from the North and South,</p> + + <p>A long account of a foreign drouth,</p> + + <p>A lot of changes in local ads,</p> + + <p>The report of a fight between drunken cads,</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And odds and ends and smoke and talk,—</p> + + <p>A reporter drawing cartoons in chalk</p> + + <p>On the dirty wall, while others laughed,</p> + + <p>And one wretch whistled, and all of them chaffed.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But the editor leaned far back in his chair;</p> + + <p>He ran his hands through his iron-gray hair,</p> + + <p>And stole ten minutes from work to write</p> + + <p>A valentine to his wife that night.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He thought of metre, he thought of rhyme.</p> + + <p>'Twas a race between weary brains and time.</p> + + <p>He tried to write as he used to when</p> + + <p>His heart was as young as his untried pen.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He started a sonnet, but gave it up.</p> + + <p>A rondeau failed for a rhyme to "cup."</p> + + <p>And the old clock ticked his time away,</p> + + <p>For the editor's mind would go astray.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He thought of the days when they were young,</p> + + <p>And all but love to the winds was flung,</p> + + <p>He thought of the way she used to wear</p> + + <p>Her wayward tresses of golden hair.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He thought of the way she used to blush.</p> + + <p>He thought of the way he used to gush.</p> + + <p>And a smile and a tear went creeping down</p> + + <p>The face that so long had known a frown.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And this is what the editor wrote:</p> + + <p>No poem—merely a little note,</p> + + <p>Simple and manly, but tender, too;</p> + + <p>Three little words—they were, "I love you."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Acting"></a> + + <h2>Acting.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, my arms hold you fast! How can they be so bold</p> + + <p>When my hands offer nothing of silver or gold?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Can it be that I see a new light in your eye?</p> + + <p>Can it be that I heard then a womanly sigh?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, I feel such delight, and such joy, such surprise,</p> + + <p>That I hardly dare lift my own sight to your eyes</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, my arms hold you fast, and my lips touch your + cheek,</p> + + <p>And I'm crying, "Love, answer me; speak to + me—speak!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And the answer you give to my longing distress</p> + + <p>Is that word, with a blush and a kiss, that word + "Yes."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, my arms hold you fast, and I burn with a fire</p> + + <p>That nothing but long-waiting love can inspire.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Yet I know you mean nothing—mean nothing, + because</p> + + <p>It's mere acting. Ah me, I can hear the applause.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="An_Apache_Love-Song"></a> + + <h2>An Apache Love-Song.<a name="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href= + "#Footnote_1_1"><sup>[1]</sup></a></h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">A-atana she was here.</p> + + <p class="i2">A-atana I was dear.</p> + + <p>She will never come again.</p> + + <p>Chill my heart, O wind and rain.</p> + + <p class="i2">A-atana she was here.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Hark, the wind asks "Hi-you?"</p> + + <p class="i2">And I answer "A-coo,</p> + + <p>Ustey with your bitter cold;</p> + + <p>U-ga-sha, my love of old."</p> + + <p class="i2">Still the wind asks "Hi-you?"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Hi-you?" I know not where.</p> + + <p class="i2">A-oo, I hardly care.</p> + + <p>Take it to the land of snow;</p> + + <p>Take it where the stars all go.</p> + + <p class="i2">"Hi-you?" I do not care.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">It-sau-i did it all—</p> + + <p class="i2">It-sau-i, proud and tall.</p> + + <p>Tell her I have gone to fight.</p> + + <p>Ask her if her heart is light.</p> + + <p class="i2">It-sau-i did it all.</p> + </div> + </div><a name="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1">[1]</a> + + <div class="note"> + <p><i>A-atana</i>, yesterday. <i>Hi-you</i>, where. + <i>A-coo</i>, here. <i>U's-tey</i>, come, or bring. + <i>U'-ga-sha</i>, go, or take. <i>A-oo</i>, yes. I have no + authority for the spelling of these words. I rendered them + phonetically from the pronunciation of a young Apache whom I + hired to teach me the language. Many Apache words have no + perceptible accent. A, here, has the sound of a in father.</p> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Old-fashioned_Girl"></a> + + <h2>The Old-fashioned Girl.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There's an old-fashioned girl in an old fashioned + street,</p> + + <p>Dressed in old-fashioned clothes from her head to her + feet;</p> + + <p>And she spends all her time in the old-fashioned way</p> + + <p>Of caring for poor people's children all day.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She never has been to cotillon or ball,</p> + + <p>And she knows not the styles of the Spring or the + Fall;</p> + + <p>Two hundred a year will suffice for her needs,</p> + + <p>And an old-fashioned Bible is all that she reads.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And she has an old-fashioned heart that is true</p> + + <p>To a fellow who died in an old coat of blue,</p> + + <p>With its buttons all brass,—who is waiting above</p> + + <p>For the woman who loved him with old-fashioned love.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Retrospect"></a> + + <h2>A Retrospect.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I was poor as a beggar,—she knew it,—</p> + + <p class="i2">But proud as a king through it all;</p> + + <p>Though it cost me two dollars to do it,</p> + + <p class="i2">I took little Meg to the ball.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Mere calico served her for satin;</p> + + <p class="i2">My broadcloth was made of blue jeans.</p> + + <p>Without crest or a motto in Latin,</p> + + <p class="i2">Meg's style was as grand as a queen's.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And we were in dreamland all through it,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I do not regret it at all;</p> + + <p>Though it cost me two dollars to do it,</p> + + <p class="i2">I took little Meg to the ball.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Hard_Hit"></a> + + <h2>Hard Hit.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I guess that I'm done for, old chappie!</p> + + <p class="i2">Done, whether she loves me or not,—</p> + + <p>But don't look so deuced unhappy,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Y'know it was I fired the shot.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Thanks, awfully. Give me the whiskey,—</p> + + <p class="i2">There's a horrible pain in my head;</p> + + <p>It's queer that my nerves should be frisky</p> + + <p class="i2">When my heart is as heavy as lead.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I'm worthless; I own it! She told me,</p> + + <p class="i2">That night at the Country Club ball,—</p> + + <p>Don't try, dear old fellow, to hold me,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Ah, Nellie!--it's over!--don't call!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She told me my life had been wasted,</p> + + <p class="i2">That my money had ruined my mind,</p> + + <p>That I'd not left a pleasure untasted,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Had been a disgrace to mankind!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And now she's to marry another,—</p> + + <p class="i2">A poor man, but honest and strong,</p> + + <p>Who had never a passion to smother,</p> + + <p class="i2">And never a chance to do wrong.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He loves her. They'll all think it funny</p> + + <p class="i2">I don't curse him and kill him, old fel;</p> + + <p>But she loves him. I've left him my money,—</p> + + <p>For I love her—God bless her! Farewell!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Rejected"></a> + + <h2>Rejected.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Aw, yes, bah Jove. I thought you'd answer "No."</p> + + <p class="i2">But still a fellah 's got to awsk, you see.</p> + + <p>And then there was the chance you might outgrow</p> + + <p class="i2">That way you had of making fun of me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Three years in Europe sometimes make a change</p> + + <p class="i2">In girls like you, who've always been + adored;</p> + + <p>And when you laughed, I thought it rawther strange.</p> + + <p class="i2">Aw, I beg pawdon; p'haps you feel, + aw—bored.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You don't? You think it fun—a fellah's pains</p> + + <p class="i2">At words like yours? You don't know how they + smart.</p> + + <p>I know you think I haven't any brains;</p> + + <p class="i2">But still, Miss Nellie, I've a—I've a + heart.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Jokers"></a> + + <h2>Jokers</h2> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Her_Yachting_Cap"></a> + + <h2>Her Yachting Cap.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Oh, the little yachting cap</p> + + <p class="i2">That is lying in her lap</p> + + <p>Has a sort of fascination for poor me.</p> + + <p class="i2">It is made of something white,</p> + + <p class="i2">And she wears it day and night,</p> + + <p>Through the weeks she spends each summer by the sea.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">She can make of it a fan,</p> + + <p class="i2">And, when necessary, can</p> + + <p>Hide her face behind it, if she chance to blush.</p> + + <p class="i2">It has carried caramels,</p> + + <p class="i2">Chocolate drops, and pretty shells,</p> + + <p>And I've even seen her use it as a brush.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But still it has one fault</p> + + <p class="i4">In my eyes. I'd better halt,</p> + + <p>Had I not, and ponder well what I shall say?</p> + + <p class="i4">She is darting warning glances.</p> + + <p class="i4">Well, under certain circumstances,</p> + + <p>The visor's always getting in my way.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Theft"></a> + + <h2>Theft.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The moonlight steals around the pine;</p> + + <p>Star-eyes steal radiance from thine.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Low music steals upon the ear;</p> + + <p>Can there be theft when thou art near?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I steel my heart for fear of this,—</p> + + <p>I steel my heart and steal a kiss.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I'd steal the sacramental wine</p> + + <p>If it were sweet as kiss of thine!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Before_her_Mirror"></a> + + <h2>Before her Mirror.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I pause before her mirror and reflect</p> + + <p class="i2">(That's what the mirror does, I take it, + too);</p> + + <p>Reflect how little it has known neglect,</p> + + <p class="i2">And think, "O mirror, would that I were + you."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She has no secrets that you do not know,</p> + + <p class="i2">You and yon crescent box of poudre de rose.</p> + + <p>And even these long curling irons can show</p> + + <p class="i2">Much evidence of use, yet naught disclose.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Here, when she smiles, <i>you</i> know it is her teeth</p> + + <p class="i2">She's putting to the test ere she depart</p> + + <p>For the gay revel on the lawn beneath,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or moonlight ramble that may break a heart.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Here she may blush, until she, red as wine,</p> + + <p class="i2">Knows that her triumphs have not ceased to + be.</p> + + <p>Here, when she frowns, and looks still more divine,</p> + + <p class="i2">You know, wise mirror, that she thinks of + me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="At_Old_Point_Comfort"></a> + + <h2>At Old Point Comfort.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You don't think of dresses, or ducats, or dukes;</p> + + <p>You don't care for chaperone's rigid rebukes;</p> + + <p class="i2">It's just simply grand,</p> + + <p class="i2">To lie there on the sand,</p> + + <p class="i4">Down at the beach,—</p> + + <p class="i4">If a man's within reach.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Some like the moonlight and some like the sun,</p> + + <p>Some flirt in earnest and some flirt in fun;</p> + + <p class="i2">It's worth all the rash,</p> + + <p class="i2">Reckless spending of cash,</p> + + <p class="i2">All the dresses you spoil,</p> + + <p class="i2">All the tempers you roil,</p> + + <p class="i4">Down at the beach,—</p> + + <p class="i4">If a man's within reach.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It's better than sleigh-rides, cotillons, or teas,</p> + + <p>It makes the dull Patriarch's knickerbocked knees</p> + + <p class="i2">Shake in the dance,</p> + + <p class="i2">And then one has a chance,</p> + + <p class="i2">If one's pretty and smart,</p> + + <p class="i2">With a tongue not too tart,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of presenting papaw</p> + + <p class="i2">With a new son-in-law,</p> + + <p class="i4">Down at the beach,—</p> + + <p class="i4">If a man's within reach.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Drop_Too_Much"></a> + + <h2>A Drop Too Much.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I praised her hair, I praised her lips,</p> + + <p class="i2">She looked up with surprise;</p> + + <p>I bowed to kiss her finger-tips,</p> + + <p class="i2">And then she dropped her eyes.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I said love ruled the world; that I</p> + + <p class="i2">Adored her; called her "Nan."</p> + + <p>She merely looked a little shy,</p> + + <p class="i2">And then she dropped her fan.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I took the hint, and at her feet</p> + + <p class="i2">I knelt—yes, quite absurd;</p> + + <p>But oh, my fond heart wildly beat</p> + + <p class="i2">To hear her drop a word.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I told her all: my talents few,</p> + + <p class="i2">My direful lack of pelf.</p> + + <p>(We all have erred.) She said "Adieu,"</p> + + <p class="i2">And then dropped me myself.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Ingratitude"></a> + + <h2>Ingratitude.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Last night young Cupid lost his way,</p> + + <p class="i2">And came to me to find it.</p> + + <p>He'd been a truant all the day,</p> + + <p class="i2">But didn't seem to mind it.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I put him in a hansom then</p> + + <p class="i2">For home, and feed the cabby;</p> + + <p>But my reward was what most men</p> + + <p class="i2">Would call extremely shabby.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He got his bow and arrows out,</p> + + <p class="i2">And pierced my heart, nor tarried,</p> + + <p>But drove away ere I could shout,</p> + + <p class="i2">"Great Heavens, Cupe, I'm married!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Few_Resolutions"></a> + + <h2>A Few Resolutions.</h2> + + <center> + (<i>With Reservations</i>) + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He shall never know that I love him—</p> + + <p class="i2">Until he asks if I do.</p> + + <p>And I'll feel very much above him—</p> + + <p class="i2">When he stoops to tie my shoe.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And I shall never kiss him—</p> + + <p class="i2">Until he kisses me.</p> + + <p>And I shall never miss him—</p> + + <p class="i2">Till he sails over the sea.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And I shall never wed him,</p> + + <p class="i2">Nor call myself his bride—</p> + + <p>Till Cupid and I have led him</p> + + <p class="i2">Right up to the minister's side.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Dilemma"></a> + + <h2>A Dilemma.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A letter for me,</p> + + <p class="i2">From the girl that I love!</p> + + <p>Just penned by her hand</p> + + <p>And caressed by her glove.</p> + + <p class="i2">A jewel—a gem—ah!</p> + + <p class="i2">A letter from Emma.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A letter for me,</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh, what joy, what surprise!</p> + + <p>Just kissed by her lips—</p> + + <p class="i2">At least, blest by her eyes.</p> + + <p class="i4">'T is opened—ahem, ah!</p> + + <p class="i4">A letter from Emma.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A letter for me,</p> + + <p class="i2">From my sweet little bird.</p> + + <p>Eight pages, by Jove!</p> + + <p class="i2">And I can't read a word.</p> + + <p class="i4">A precious dilemma,</p> + + <p class="i4">This letter from Emma!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Choice_not_Necessary"></a> + + <h2>A Choice not Necessary.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Here is a rose,</p> + + <p class="i2">Here is a kiss;</p> + + <p>Which do you choose?</p> + + <p class="i2">One rhymes with prose;</p> + + <p class="i2">One rhymes with bliss.</p> + + <p>Ah, you amuse.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">You hesitate,</p> + + <p class="i2">You blush, you sigh.</p> + + <p>What! are you loath?</p> + + <p class="i2">'Tis getting late;</p> + + <p class="i2">Be quick—</p> + + <p>Fool, take them both!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="That_Boston_Girl"></a> + + <h2>That Boston Girl.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Her voice is sweet,</p> + + <p class="i2">Her style is neat;</p> + + <p>She'd move the world with but a pen.</p> + + <p class="i2">Her mind is clear;</p> + + <p class="i2">Her sight, though near,</p> + + <p>Is long enough to capture men.</p> + + <p>What matters it her learning, then?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Hero"></a> + + <h2>The Hero.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He looked so handsome, proud, and brave,</p> + + <p class="i2">As he stood there, straight and tall,</p> + + <p>With his steadfast eyes, so gray, so grave,</p> + + <p class="i2">The beau of the Hunt Club ball.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah me, full many a white breast sighed</p> + + <p class="i2">For the favor of his hand,—</p> + + <p>For the love of a heart so true, so tried,</p> + + <p class="i2">For life, you understand.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He looked a hero; he was more,</p> + + <p class="i2">A martyr, too, perchance;</p> + + <p>For he went to the oldest girl on the floor,</p> + + <p class="i2">And led her out to dance.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Sweet_Summer_Girl"></a> + + <h2>The Sweet Summer Girl.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She has hair that is fluffy, straight, banged, or half + curled;</p> + + <p>Has a parasol, oft by her deft fingers twirled.</p> + + <p>She has eyes either brown or black, gray or true blue;</p> + + <p>Has a neat fitting glove and a still neater shoe.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She has cheeks that make bitter the envious rose;</p> + + <p>She has trunks upon trunks of the costliest clothes;</p> + + <p>She has jewels that shine as the stars do at night;</p> + + <p>And she dances as Ariel dances—or might.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She knows nothing much, but she's great on the smile;</p> + + <p>Her profession is love, and she flirts all the while;</p> + + <p>She's accustomed to sitting on rocks in the glen;</p> + + <p>She is also accustomed to sitting on men.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Her_Fan"></a> + + <h2>Her Fan.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A dainty thing of silk and lace,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of feathers, and of paint,</p> + + <p>Held often to her laughing face</p> + + <p class="i2">When I assume the saint.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Too dainty far to mix with these</p> + + <p class="i2">Old pipes, cigars, and books</p> + + <p>Of bachelordom,—rare life of ease,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Rare friends, rare wines, rare cooks.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Twill smell of stale tobacco smoke</p> + + <p class="i2">Ere many days I fear,</p> + + <p>And hear full many a rattling joke,</p> + + <p class="i2">And feel, perhaps, a tear.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Why is it here? Alas for me!</p> + + <p class="i2">I broke it at a ball.</p> + + <p>"Apologize—repair it" See?</p> + + <p class="i2">Five dollars gone,—that's all.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Certainty"></a> + + <h2>Certainty.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Phyllis, love may be for you,</p> + + <p class="i2">But it is not for me;</p> + + <p>For fortune comes between us two,</p> + + <p class="i2">And says it must not be.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Another fellow's fortune, too;</p> + + <p class="i2">A million, as I know.</p> + + <p>You ask me how I found it out?</p> + + <p class="i2">Your mater told me so.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Caught"></a> + + <h2>Caught.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When Phyllis turned her eyes on me</p> + + <p class="i2">I blushed and hesitated;</p> + + <p>For though on terms familiar, we</p> + + <p class="i2">Were not at all related.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I felt her mild, reproachful glance,</p> + + <p class="i2">And knew her words would rankle.</p> + + <p>To tell the truth, I had, by chance,</p> + + <p class="i2">Been looking at her ankle.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="An_Important_Distinction"></a> + + <h2>An Important Distinction.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She said, without a single sigh,</p> + + <p class="i2">And hardly hesitation,</p> + + <p>That she would be my sister, aye,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or any fond relation.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I answered cunningly, "Ah me,</p> + + <p class="i2">I've sisters by the dozen;</p> + + <p>Please make it in the next degree,</p> + + <p class="i2">For one may wed a cousin."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Two_Kinds"></a> + + <h2>Two Kinds.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, her eyes, her beautiful eyes!</p> + + <p>How they melt when she sobs or she sighs!</p> + + <p class="i2">How they droop</p> + + <p class="i4">When she blushes!</p> + + <p class="i2">How they flash</p> + + <p class="i4">When she crushes</p> + + <p>The love she's compelled to disguise!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, her i's, her beautiful i's!</p> + + <p>Who can tell them apart though he tries</p> + + <p class="i2">From her m's</p> + + <p class="i4">Or her e's,</p> + + <p class="i2">N's, or u's</p> + + <p class="i4">As you please</p> + + <p class="i2">In her letters? I offer a prize.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="What_it_Is"></a> + + <h2>What it Is.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Just a little melancholy,</p> + + <p class="i2">Just a tear or two,</p> + + <p>Just a word that's naughty,</p> + + <p class="i2">Just a spiteful "pooh!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Just an extra cocktail,</p> + + <p class="i2">Just a flower-bill due,</p> + + <p>Just another ring to take</p> + + <p class="i2">Unto my friend, the Jew.</p> + + <p>That is what it is to be</p> + + <p class="i2">Rejected, Miss, by you.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="In_her_Pew"></a> + + <h2>In her Pew.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She looked up from her pew</p> + + <p>(Why she did, Heaven knows);</p> + + <p>But I smiled; wouldn't you?</p> + + <p>'T was the right thing to do;</p> + + <p>And, pshaw, nobody knew.</p> + + <p class="i4">Then I tried hard to pose,</p> + + <p class="i4">But a look of hers froze</p> + + <p>All my blood. And I woo</p> + + <p>Her in future, old chappie, when not in her pew.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Suspicious_Lover_to_the_Star"></a> + + <h2>The Suspicious Lover to the Star.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>O silver star,</p> + + <p class="i2">That seeth far,</p> + + <p>Tell my poor heart what she is doing;</p> + + <p class="i2">And ease my pain,</p> + + <p class="i2">Who would again</p> + + <p>Be at her side, and still be wooing.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Does she regret</p> + + <p class="i2">The token set</p> + + <p>By me upon her slender finger?</p> + + <p class="i2">Or in the dance</p> + + <p class="i2">Do her eyes glance</p> + + <p>At it sometimes,—and sometimes linger?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Be, silver star,</p> + + <p class="i2">Particular,</p> + + <p>And do not be afraid of hurting.</p> + + <p class="i2">I know her well,</p> + + <p class="i2">And truth to tell,</p> + + <p>I fear my lady love is flirting.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Slight_Surprise"></a> + + <h2>A Slight Surprise.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Come, lovely Laura! strike the lyre,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I will sing a song to thee</p> + + <p>That will thy maiden heart inspire</p> + + <p class="i2">With love, and love alone for me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Why hesitate? Come, strike the lyre!</p> + + <p class="i2">Down where the chord is minor D.</p> + + <p>Of wooing thee I'll never tire.</p> + + <p class="i2">Good gracious! Why do you strike me?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Past_vs_Present"></a> + + <h2>Past vs. Present.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Through all the days I courted her</p> + + <p class="i2">My memory fondly floats,</p> + + <p>When love and I exhorted her</p> + + <p class="i2">To read, re-read my notes.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But now I love her ten times more,</p> + + <p class="i2">And my soul fairly gloats</p> + + <p>To think that my hard times are o'er,—</p> + + <p class="i2">For now she pays my notes.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Usual_Way"></a> + + <h2>The Usual Way.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Three young maidens sat in a row,</p> + + <p class="i2">With three grim dragons behind 'em;</p> + + <p>And each of these maidens had a young beau,</p> + + <p class="i2">And they all of 'em made 'em mind 'em.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>These three maidens are married now;</p> + + <p class="i2">In three brown-stone fronts you'll find + 'em.</p> + + <p>But ever since the very first row</p> + + <p class="i2">They can none of 'em make 'em mind 'em.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Difference_in_Style"></a> + + <h2>A Difference in Style.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sweet Phyllis sat upon a stile,</p> + + <p class="i2">With love and me beside her,</p> + + <p>Her red lips in a pouting smile.</p> + + <p class="i2">A pout? Her eyes belied her.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My thoughts were merry as the day,—</p> + + <p class="i2">And though the joke was shocking,—</p> + + <p>I shouted quick, and turned away:</p> + + <p class="i2">"A spider's on your stocking!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The fun, of course, I did not see,</p> + + <p class="i2">But heard an exclamation</p> + + <p>That sounded much like "Gracious me!"</p> + + <p class="i2">And guessed the consternation.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then Phyllis sat upon the style</p> + + <p class="i2">Of men who would deride her;</p> + + <p>But she no longer sits the while</p> + + <p class="i2">With love and me beside her.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Afraid"></a> + + <h2>Afraid.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Down the broad stairs,</p> + + <p class="i2">Stranger to cares,</p> + + <p>My love comes tripping and smiling and free;</p> + + <p class="i2">The snows on her breast</p> + + <p class="i2">Are a blush unconfessed.</p> + + <p>I wonder what fate has in waiting for me?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">My heart seems to throb</p> + + <p class="i2">Like a broken-paced cob;</p> + + <p>I fear I'm a coward in love, as they say.</p> + + <p class="i2">She's commencing to laugh;</p> + + <p class="i2">How the fellows will chaff.</p> + + <p>By Jove, I'm not going to ask her to-day.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Ye_Retort_Exasperating"></a> + + <h2>Ye Retort Exasperating.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Sweete maide," ye lovesicke youthe remarked,</p> + + <p class="i2">"Thou'rt fickle as my star!</p> + + <p>By far ye worste I ever sparked,</p> + + <p class="i2">You are! You really are!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Albeit yt my brains are nil,</p> + + <p class="i2">I'm gallante as can be;</p> + + <p>I'lle be to you whate'er you wille,</p> + + <p class="i2">If you'lle be more to me."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Faire youthe," ye maide replied, "I do</p> + + <p class="i2">Not barter, as a rule,</p> + + <p>But I'lle be sister untoe you,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Be you my Aprille foole."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Rhyming_Reverie"></a> + + <h2>A Rhyming Reverie.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It was a dainty lady's glove;</p> + + <p>A souvenir to rhyme with love.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It was the memory of a kiss,</p> + + <p>So called to make it rhyme with bliss.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There was a month at Mt. Desert,</p> + + <p>Synonymous and rhymes with flirt.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A pretty girl and lots of style,</p> + + <p>Which rhymes with happy for a while.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There came a rival old and bold,</p> + + <p>To make him rhyme with gold and sold.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A broken heart there had to be.</p> + + <p>Alas, the rhyme just fitted me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Sure_Winner"></a> + + <h2>A Sure Winner.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, treat me not with cold disdain,</p> + + <p class="i2">My pretty maids of fashion;</p> + + <p>Look upon the hearts you've slain,</p> + + <p class="i2">And listen to my passion.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Though I am not so peerly proud</p> + + <p class="i2">As men of higher station,</p> + + <p>So handsome that the madding crowd</p> + + <p class="i2">Collects in admiration;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And have, perhaps, too great a store</p> + + <p class="i2">Of sandy hair and freckles,</p> + + <p>I've mortgages and bonds galore,</p> + + <p class="i2">And muchly many shekels.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You yet may journey league or mile</p> + + <p class="i2">To wed, as you're aware.</p> + + <p>Come, cease your longing for mere style,</p> + + <p class="i2">And take A. MILLIONNAIRE.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Tantalization"></a> + + <h2>Tantalization.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She stands beneath the mistletoe</p> + + <p class="i2">As though she did not know it.</p> + + <p>She looks quite unconcerned, you know,</p> + + <p class="i2">And pretty, yes,—but, blow it,</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I have to turn and walk away;</p> + + <p class="i2">I'll have revenge anon.</p> + + <p>She knows quite well, alack the day,</p> + + <p class="i2">That my wife is looking on.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="His_Usual_Fate"></a> + + <h2>His Usual Fate.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>All one season</p> + + <p class="i2">Lost to reason,</p> + + <p>Breathing sea air</p> + + <p>By the beach, where</p> + + <p class="i2">Young hearts mingle,</p> + + <p>Love was playful</p> + + <p>All the day full.</p> + + <p class="i2">We were single.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now with mournful</p> + + <p>Looks and scornful</p> + + <p>Turns he too us;</p> + + <p>He is through us,</p> + + <p class="i2">Worried, harried.</p> + + <p>Love is sighing;</p> + + <p>Love is dying.</p> + + <p class="i2">We are married.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="On_Two_Letters_from_Her"></a> + + <h2>On Two Letters from Her.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I wrote her a letter. It took her quite two</p> + + <p class="i2">To answer it after she'd read it.</p> + + <p>My letter contained what perhaps even you</p> + + <p class="i2">Have written,—at least, you have said + it.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My letter contained the old tale of a heart</p> + + <p class="i2">That longed to be linked to another;</p> + + <p>And I told her to think on each separate part,</p> + + <p class="i2">And ask the advice of her mother.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She apparently did, for the very next mail</p> + + <p class="i2">Brought me a message of woe.</p> + + <p>It took her two letters; they made me turn pale;</p> + + <p class="i2">For they were the letters "N" "O".</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Serenademdashen_Deux_Langues"></a> + + <h2>A Serenade—en Deux Langues.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sous le maple, mort de night,</p> + + <p class="i2">Avec le lune beams shining through,</p> + + <p>Ecoutez-moi, mon hapless plight.</p> + + <p class="i2">Je vous aime—qui lovez-vous?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Je plink les strings de mon guitar.</p> + + <p class="i2">Il fait bien froid; J'am nervous, too.</p> + + <p>Dites-moi, dites-moi ce que vous are?</p> + + <p class="i2">Je vous aime; qui lovez-vous?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Tu es si belle, je veux vous wed.</p> + + <p class="i2">Mon père est riche—comme riche est + you?</p> + + <p>Bonne nuit, adieu; J'ai cold in head.</p> + + <p class="i2">Je vous aime—qui lovez-vous.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="When_a_Girl_says_quotNoquot"></a> + + <h2>When a Girl says "No."</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">When a girl says "Yes,"</p> + + <p class="i2">There's a quick caress,</p> + + <p class="i2">A kiss, a sigh,</p> + + <p class="i2">A melting eye.</p> + + <p class="i2">There's a vision of things</p> + + <p class="i2">That hard cash brings,—</p> + + <p class="i2">A winter at Nice</p> + + <p class="i2">With a servant apiece,</p> + + <p class="i2">A long yachting cruise,</p> + + <p class="i2">Name in "personal news,"</p> + + <p class="i2">Plenty of wine,</p> + + <p class="i2">Two hours to dine;</p> + + <p>But it's different quite when a girl says "No."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When a girl says "No,"</p> + + <p class="i2">It's so different, oh!</p> + + <p class="i2">No kiss, ten sighs,</p> + + <p class="i2">Two tear-dimmed eyes.</p> + + <p class="i2">There's a vision of things</p> + + <p class="i2">That poverty brings,—</p> + + <p class="i2">A winter complete</p> + + <p class="i2">On Uneasy Street,</p> + + <p class="i2">A temptation to rob,</p> + + <p class="i2">A twelve-dollar job,</p> + + <p class="i2">A boarding-house meal,</p> + + <p class="i2">And you pray a new deal;</p> + + <p>For it's different quite when a girl says "No."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Uncertainty"></a> + + <h2>Uncertainty.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Jenny has a laughing eye,</p> + + <p>Yet she is most wondrous shy.</p> + + <p class="i12">But why?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Jenny says she hates the men;</p> + + <p>Still she'll marry. Artful Jen!</p> + + <p class="i12">But when?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I've a rival who is rich;</p> + + <p>With one of us sweet Jen will hitch.</p> + + <p class="i12">But which?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Her_Peculiarities"></a> + + <h2>Her Peculiarities.</h2> + + <center> + <i>The Question of the Learned Man</i>. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>How doth the little blushing maid</p> + + <p class="i2">Employ each shining hour?</p> + + <p>Doth she, in sober thought arrayed,</p> + + <p class="i2">Learn knowledge that is power?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Say, doth she mend her father's socks,</p> + + <p class="i2">And cook his evening meal?</p> + + <p>And doth she make her own sweet frocks</p> + + <p class="i2">With adolescent zeal?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Reply_of_the_Observant_Youth"></a> + + <h2><i>The Reply of the Observant Youth</i>.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Not much; not much. She knows it all;</p> + + <p class="i2">She doth not need to learn.</p> + + <p>She thinks of naught but rout or ball,</p> + + <p class="i2">And which youth will be her'n.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She hustles for a diamond ring;</p> + + <p class="i2">She cares not for her dad.</p> + + <p>She does not make him anything,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Except, she makes him mad.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Tying_the_Strings_of_her_Shoe"></a> + + <h2>Tying the Strings of her Shoe.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Tying the strings of her shoe,</p> + + <p class="i2">With only the moon to see me.</p> + + <p>Could I be quick? Could you?</p> + + <p>That is the time to woo</p> + + <p>What would any one do?</p> + + <p class="i2">I tied no knot that would free me,</p> + + <p>Tying the strings of her shoe,</p> + + <p class="i2">With only the moon to see me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="When_You_are_Rejected"></a> + + <h2>When You are Rejected.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Don't say</p> + + <p class="i2">"Good day,"</p> + + <p>Then grab the door and slam it.</p> + + <p class="i2">Be quite</p> + + <p class="i2">Polite;</p> + + <p>Go out, and then say, "---- it."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Bachelors_Views"></a> + + <h2>A Bachelor's Views.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">A pipe, a book,</p> + + <p class="i4">A cosy nook,</p> + + <p>A fire,—at least its embers;</p> + + <p class="i4">A dog, a glass;—</p> + + <p class="i4">'T is thus we pass</p> + + <p>Such hours as one remembers.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">Who'd wish to wed?</p> + + <p class="i4">Poor Cupid's dead</p> + + <p class="i2">These thousand years, I wager.</p> + + <p class="i4">The modern maid</p> + + <p class="i4">Is but a jade,</p> + + <p>Not worth the time to cage her.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">In silken gown</p> + + <p class="i4">To "take" the town</p> + + <p>Her first and last ambition.</p> + + <p class="i4">What good is she</p> + + <p class="i4">To you or me</p> + + <p>Who have but a "position"?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So let us drink</p> + + <p class="i2">To her,—but think</p> + + <p>Of him who has to keep her;</p> + + <p class="i2">And <i>sans</i> a wife</p> + + <p class="i2">Let's spend our life</p> + + <p>In bachelordom,—it's cheaper.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="My_Cigarette"></a> + + <h2>My Cigarette.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ma pauvre petite,</p> + + <p>My little sweet,</p> + + <p class="i2">Why do you cry?</p> + + <p>Why this small tear,</p> + + <p>So pure and clear,</p> + + <p class="i2">In each blue eye?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'My cigarette—</p> + + <p>I'm smoking yet?'</p> + + <p class="i2">(I'll be discreet.)</p> + + <p>I toss it, see,</p> + + <p>Away from me</p> + + <p class="i2">Into the street.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You see I do</p> + + <p>All things for you.</p> + + <p class="i2">Come, let us sup.</p> + + <p>(But oh, what joy</p> + + <p>To be that boy</p> + + <p class="i2">Who picked it up.)</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Discovered"></a> + + <h2>Discovered.</h2> + + <center> + AN EPISODE ON BEACON HILL. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You are frowning;</p> + + <p class="i2">I don't wonder.</p> + + <p>Reading Browning;</p> + + <p class="i2">Hard as thunder!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, excuse me;</p> + + <p class="i2">You adore it?</p> + + <p>You amuse me;</p> + + <p class="i2">I abhor it.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Let me see it.</p> + + <p class="i2">Who has taught you?</p> + + <p>Now to me it—</p> + + <p class="i2">Ah, I've caught you.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It <i>must</i> be hard so</p> + + <p class="i2">(Hence the frown?)</p> + + <p>To read the bard so—</p> + + <p class="i2">Upside down.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Ice_in_the_Punch"></a> + + <h2>The Ice in the Punch.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The wail of the 'cello is soft, sweet, and low;</p> + + <p>There are strains of romance in the thrumming banjo.</p> + + <p>The violin's note—feel it float in your ear;</p> + + <p>And the harp makes one fancy that angels are near.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The voice of a young girl can reach to the heart;</p> + + <p>The song of the baritone—well, it is art.</p> + + <p>The flute and the lute in gavotte—the guitar</p> + + <p>In soft serenade—how entrancing they are!</p> + + <p class="i2">But to all the mad millions</p> + + <p class="i2">Who dance at cotillons</p> + + <p>There's naught like the clink and the clank and the + crunch</p> + + <p class="i2">Of the ice in the punch.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So here's to the recipe, ancient in Spain,</p> + + <p>And here's to the basket of cobwebbed champagne.</p> + + <p>Again to the genius who grows the sharp spice,</p> + + <p>But ten times to King Winter who furnishes ice;</p> + + <p class="i2">For to all the mad millions</p> + + <p class="i2">Who dance at cotillons</p> + + <p>There's naught like the clink and the clank and the + crunch</p> + + <p class="i2">Of the ice in the punch.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Tale_of_a_Broken_Heart"></a> + + <h2>The Tale of a Broken Heart.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She was a</p> + + <p class="i2">Beautiful,</p> + + <p class="i2">Dutiful,</p> + + <p class="i4">Grand,</p> + + <p>And rollicking queen of Bohemia,</p> + + <p class="i2">With a cheek that was</p> + + <p class="i4">Rosier,</p> + + <p class="i4">Cosier,</p> + + <p class="i8">And</p> + + <p>As soft as a lily, and creamier.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">She was always com-</p> + + <p class="i4">pelling me,</p> + + <p class="i4">Selling me,</p> + + <p class="i8">I</p> + + <p>Was her slave, but she treated me shamefully.</p> + + <p class="i2">She went on the</p> + + <p class="i4">Stage, was a</p> + + <p class="i4">Rage, as a—</p> + + <p class="i8">Why—</p> + + <p>As a page, and they spoke of her blamefully.</p> + + <p class="i2">And then in the</p> + + <p class="i4">Papers her</p> + + <p class="i4">Capers were</p> + + <p class="i8">Writ.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I love her no longer,—I swear it;</p> + + <p class="i2">But I oft spend a</p> + + <p class="i4">Dollar and</p> + + <p class="i4">Holler and</p> + + <p class="i8">Sit</p> + + <p>Through her antics. Oh, how can I bear it?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Where_did_you_get_it"></a> + + <h2>Where did you get it?</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Pray, ladies, ye of wondrous clothes,</p> + + <p>That draw admiring "ahs!" and "ohs!"</p> + + <p class="i2">And "By Joves!" as men chat,</p> + + <p>Permit me,—love the right bestows,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Where did you get that hat?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The very hat, sweet maids, I mean,</p> + + <p>So often now on Broadway seen,</p> + + <p class="i2">That is so very flat;</p> + + <p>Black as a rule, but sometimes green.</p> + + <p class="i2">Where did you get that hat?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>In shape an oyster-dish,—the crown,—</p> + + <p>A ribbon bristles up and down,</p> + + <p class="i2">Quite striking—yes, all that;</p> + + <p>The sweetest, neatest thing in town!</p> + + <p class="i2">Where <i>did</i> you get that hat?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="No"></a> + + <h2>No</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"No!" The word</p> + + <p>Fell upon my ears</p> + + <p>Like the knell of a funeral bell.</p> + + <p>I had fondly expected</p> + + <p>A whispered "yes" that</p> + + <p>Would steal into my soul</p> + + <p>Like the song of an angel</p> + + <p>From some distant Aidenn.</p> + + <p>I arose and brushed off</p> + + <p>The knees of my trousers.</p> + + <p>"Farewell," I said; "you have ruined my life."</p> + + <p>"Nonsense," she replied in the cold, cutting voice</p> + + <p>Of a woman who has been used to $100 bills</p> + + <p>And a coupé;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"There have been thirty-seven before you, and they</p> + + <p>Are all married and happy now.</p> + + <p>You see I know all about young men."</p> + + <p>"I do not think a young, timid girl</p> + + <p>Should 'No' so much," I answered. And going out</p> + + <p>(Carefully escorted by the butler, for there was</p> + + <p>A better overcoat than mine in the hall),</p> + + <p>I left her alone and unloved,—with no one to care + for her</p> + + <p>Save a couple of dozen servants</p> + + <p>And a doting father and mother.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Midsummer_Nights_Tempest"></a> + + <h2>A Midsummer Night's Tempest.</h2> + + <center> + AN EPILOGUE TO HAMLET, PERFORMED BY AMATEURS. + </center> + + <p>SCENE: <i>Elsinore—a platform before the castle (on an + improvised stage). Inky darkness. Shade of Hamlet + (solus)</i>.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Shade of Hamlet</i>: Oh, did you see him, did you see + the knave,</p> + + <p>The spindle-shanked, low-browed, and cock-eyed</p> + + <p>Clerk to an attorney, play at Hamlet,</p> + + <p>Dream-souled Hamlet, wearing an eyeglass?</p> + + <p>Oh, it was horrible.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>(<i>Enter Shade of Laertes</i>.)</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Shade of Laertes</i>: What's the matter with + Hamlet?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>S. of H.</i>: He's not all right.</p> + + <p>No, by the fame of Shakespeare, he's all wrong.</p> + + <p>A certain convocation of talented amateurs</p> + + <p>Are e'en at him.</p> + + <p>Your amateur is your only emperor for talent;</p> + + <p>There's not a genius in the universe</p> + + <p>Who will essay as much.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>S. of L.</i>: Or, who will imitate nature so + abominably.</p> + + <p>Your head is level, Ham., and I—even I,</p> + + <p>Laertes, suffered at the hands of one</p> + + <p>Whose fiery hair, parted in the middle</p> + + <p>Like a cranberry pie, caused me to believe</p> + + <p>That some of nature's journeymen had made a man,</p> + + <p>And not made him well, he imitated nature</p> + + <p>So abominably.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>S. of H.</i>: Ha' + the fair Ophelia!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>(Enter Shade of Ophelia</i>.)</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>S. of O.</i>: Yes, my lord, thine own Ophelia,</p> + + <p>Come back to earth with heaviness o' grief</p> + + <p>Thy madness ne'er begot, for I have seen</p> + + <p>The efforts of a lisping, smirking maid,</p> + + <p>As graceful as a bean-pole, and as lean.</p> + + <p>Attempt to paint the sorrow of my heart.</p> + + <p>Oh, I would get me to a nunnery.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>S of H.</i>: Let me + Ophelyour pulse.</p> + + <p>Mad—quite mad; and all because</p> + + <p>A creature whom these mortals call a Miss,</p> + + <p>Quite properly, as her efforts are amiss,</p> + + <p>Would fain portray thee. Soft you, now!</p> + + <p>O fair Ophelia. Nymph in thine orisons</p> + + <p class="i4">Be all her sins remembered.</p> + + <p>Why let the stricken deer go weep,</p> + + <p class="i2">The untrained amateur play?</p> + + <p>All those that watch must surely weep.</p> + + <p class="i2">So wise men stay away.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>(<i>Flickering blue lights and curtain</i>.)</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Abused_Gallant"></a> + + <h2>The Abused Gallant.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Two lovely maidens (woe is me!)</p> + + <p class="i2">Play tennis with my heart;</p> + + <p>And each is wondrous fair to see,</p> + + <p class="i2">And each is wondrous smart.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>In learning, money, beauty, birth,</p> + + <p class="i2">None can surpass them—none.</p> + + <p>But each receives my "court" with mirth,</p> + + <p class="i2">And tells the other one.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My "court"! The term is fitly used—</p> + + <p class="i2">A tennis court, you see.</p> + + <p>And I know well I am abused,</p> + + <p class="i2">By the "racket" they give me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Maud strikes my heart a brutal blow,</p> + + <p class="i2">And Mabel cries out, "Fault!"</p> + + <p>And back and forth I undergo</p> + + <p class="i2">A feminine assault.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Maud asks my age. Alas! I hear</p> + + <p class="i2">Sweet Mabel say, "The goose</p> + + <p>Is very nearly forty, dear."</p> + + <p class="i2">Maud answers, "Oh, 'the deuce'!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And so my poor heart with their wit</p> + + <p class="i2">Is volleyed oft and oft,</p> + + <p>Till Mabel cries, while holding it,</p> + + <p class="i2">"This heart is far too soft."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And firing it into the net,</p> + + <p class="i2">She says, with girlish vim,</p> + + <p>"Although he isn't in our 'set,'</p> + + <p class="i2">We're making 'game' of him."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And making game they are, I swear</p> + + <p class="i2">By all the saints above,</p> + + <p>With all the terms of tennis there</p> + + <p class="i2">Save but the sweetest, "love."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="After_the_Ball"></a> + + <h2>After the Ball.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A last word in the vestibule,</p> + + <p class="i2">A touch of taper fingers,</p> + + <p>A scent of roses, sweet and cool,</p> + + <p class="i2">When she has gone still lingers.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He pauses at the carriage door</p> + + <p class="i2">To sigh a bit and ponder</p> + + <p>He thinks the matter o'er and o'er,</p> + + <p class="i2">And all his senses wander.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>With mantle thrown aside in haste,</p> + + <p class="i2">Her heart a bit uncertain,</p> + + <p>And neither time nor love to waste,</p> + + <p class="i2">She watches through the curtain.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And she has played him well, he knows</p> + + <p class="i2">Nor has he dared to stop her.</p> + + <p>She wonders when he will propose;</p> + + <p class="i2">He wonders how he'll drop her.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Vanity_Fair"></a> + + <h2>Vanity Fair.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">Oh, whence, oh, where</p> + + <p class="i4">Is Vanity Fair?</p> + + <p>I want to be seen with the somebodies there.</p> + + <p>I've money and beauty and college-bred brains;</p> + + <p>Though my 'scutcheon's not spotless, who'll mind a few + stains?</p> + + <p>To caper I wish in the chorus of style,</p> + + <p>And wed an aristocrat after a while</p> + + <p class="i2">So please tell me truly, and please tell me + fair,</p> + + <p>Just how many miles it's from Madison Square.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">It's here, it's there,</p> + + <p class="i4">Is Vanity Fair.</p> + + <p class="i2">It's not like a labyrinth, not like a lair.</p> + + <p>It's North and it's South, and it's East and it's + West;</p> + + <p>You can see it, oh, anywhere, quite at its best.</p> + + <p>Dame Fashion is queen, Ready Money is king,</p> + + <p>You can join it, provided you don't know a thing.</p> + + <p class="i2">It's miles over here, and it's miles over + there;</p> + + <p class="i2">And it's not seven inches from Madison + Square.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="For_the_Long_Voyage"></a> + + <h2>For the Long Voyage.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Were I a captain bold," I said,</p> + + <p class="i2">And gently clasped her hand,</p> + + <p>"Wouldst sail with me, by fancy led,</p> + + <p class="i2">To every foreign strand?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Wouldst help me furl my silver sail,</p> + + <p class="i2">And be my trusty crew?</p> + + <p>Wouldst stand by in the midnight gale,</p> + + <p class="i2">My pilot tried and true?"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Well, no," she answered, blushing red,</p> + + <p class="i2">"Such heavy work I hate.</p> + + <p>But,"—listen what the maiden said,—</p> + + <p class="i2">"I would be your first mate."</p> + </div> + </div><br> + <br> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>This is the end.</p> + </div><br> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The printing was</p> + + <p>done by John Wilson</p> + + <p>& Son, Cambridge</p> + + <p>for</p> + + <p>Fredrick A. Stokes</p> + + <p>Company</p> + + <p>New York</p> + + <p>MDCCCICVIII</p> + </div> + </div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11711 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e3e2efd --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11711 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11711) diff --git a/old/11711-8.txt b/old/11711-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..595cf32 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11711-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2792 @@ +Project Gutenberg's When hearts are trumps, by Thomas Winthrop Hall + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: When hearts are trumps + +Author: Thomas Winthrop Hall + +Release Date: March 25, 2004 [EBook #11711] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN HEARTS ARE TRUMPS *** + + + + +Produced by papeters, Garrett Alley, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + +When Hearts are Trumps + +By + +Tom Hall + +[Illustration] + + +_New York_ +Frederick A. Stokes +Company +Publishers + + + + +Frederick H. Stokes +Company + +Sixth Edition +September 1898 + + + + +_The verses in this volume have been selected from work that has +appeared in various periodicals during the past five years. Especially +to the editors of_ LIFE, TRUTH, TOWN TOPICS, VOGUE, _and_ MUNSEY'S +MAGAZINE _I have to offer my thanks for their permission to republish +the majority of them_. + +_T.H._ + +NEW YORK, February 1, 1894. + + + + +Contents. + +KINGS & QUEENS & BOWERS + + THE PERFECT FACE + THE MOONLIGHT SONATA + THE KISS + THE BRIDE + A PROBLEM + TO PHYLLIS READING A LETTER + A ROSE FROM HER HAIR + WHEN I TOLD HER MY LOVE + MY LADY, YOU BLUSHED + THE AMERICAN SLAVE + SELL HER,--THAT'S RIGHT + TIME AND PLACE + BLOOD ON THE ROSE + IN OLD MADRID + THE DUEL + THE SHROUD + LOVE'S RETURN + ONE WISH + FOR ME + TO A WATER-COLOR + THE SERENADE + TO THE ROSE IN HER HAIR + HER REVERIE + TO BEAUTY + DREAMING OF YOU + PLEASE RETURN + ALMOST DYING OF ENNUI + JACKS FROM JACK + HYACINTHS + IN THE WALTZ + SHE IS MINE + OLD TIMES + OF MY LOVE + THE FAREWELL + THE LAST DANCE + WHY HE ASKED FOR A VACATION + THE EDITOR'S VALENTINE + ACTING + AN APACHE LOVE-SONG + THE OLD-FASHIONED GIRL + A RETROSPECT + HARD HIT + REJECTED + +JOKERS + + HER YACHTING CAP + THEFT + BEFORE HER MIRROR + AT OLD POINT COMFORT + A DROP TOO MUCH + INGRATITUDE + A FEW RESOLUTIONS + A DILEMMA + A CHOICE NOT NECESSARY + THAT BOSTON GIRL + THE HERO + THE SWEET SUMMER GIRL + HER FAN + CERTAINTY + CAUGHT + AN IMPORTANT DISTINCTION + TWO KINDS + WHAT IT IS + IN HER PEW + THE SUSPICIOUS LOVER TO THE STAR + A SLIGHT SURPRISE + PAST _vs_. PRESENT + THE USUAL WAY + A DIFFERENCE IN STYLE + AFRAID + YE RETORT EXASPERATING + A RHYMING REVERIE + A SURE WINNER + TANTALIZATION + HIS USUAL FATE + ON TWO LETTERS FROM HER + A SERENADE--EN DEUX LANGUES + WHEN A GIRL SAYS "NO" + UNCERTAINTY + HER PECULIARITIES + TYING THE STRINGS OF HER SHOE + WHEN YOU ARE REJECTED + A BACHELOR'S VIEWS + MY CIGARETTE + DISCOVERED + THE ICE IN THE PUNCH + THE TALE OF A BROKEN HEART + WHERE DID YOU GET IT? + NO + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S TEMPEST + THE ABUSED GALLANT + AFTER THE BALL + VANITY FAIR + FOR THE LONG VOYAGE + + + + Kings + & + Queens + & + Bowers + + + +The Perfect Face. + + The Graces, on a summer day, + Grew serious for a moment; yea, + They thought in rivalry to trace + The outline of a perfect face. + + Each used a rosebud for a brush, + And, while it glowed with sunset's blush, + Each painted on the evening sky, + And each a star used for the eye. + + They finished. Each a curtaining cloud + Drew back, and each exclaimed aloud: + "Behold, we three have drawn the same, + From the same model!" Ah, her name? + + I know. I saw the pictures grow. + I saw them falter, fade, and go. + I know the model. Oft she lures + My heart. The face, my sweet, was yours. + + + + +The Moonlight Sonata. + + The notes still float upon the air, + Just as they did that night. + I see the old piano there,-- + Oh, that again I might! + + Her young voice haunts my eager ear; + Her hair in the candle-light + Still seems an aureole,--a tear + Is my spectroscope to-night. + + I hear her trembling tell me "No," + And I know that she answered right + But I throw a kiss to the stars, and though + She be wed she will dream to-night. + + + + +The Kiss + + Over the green fields, over the snow, + Something I send thee, something I throw. + No one can guess it; no one can know. + + Light as a feather, quick as the eye; + Thin as a sunbeam, deep as the sky; + Worthless, but something a queen could not buy. + + Ah, you have caught it, love! How do I know? + Sweet, there are secrets lost ages ago. + Lovers learn all of them. Smile not,--'tis so. + + + + +The Bride. + + Before her mirror, robed in spotless white, + She stands and, wondering, looks at her own face, + Amazed at its new loveliness and grace. + Smiling and blushing at the pretty sight, + So fraught is she with innocent delight, + She feels the tender thrill of his embrace + Crushing her lilies into flowery lace; + Then sighs and starts, even as though from fright. + + Then fleets before her eyes the happy past; + She turns from it with petulant disdain, + And tries to read the future,--but in vain. + Blank are its pages from the first to last. + She hears faint music, smiles, and leaves the room + Just as one rosebud more bursts into bloom. + + + + +A Problem. + + Give you a problem for your midnight toil,-- + One you can study till your hair is white + And never solve and never guess aright, + Although you burn to dregs your midnight oil? + O Sage, I give one that will make you moil. + Just take one weakling little woman's heart. + Prepare your patience, furbish up your art. + How now? Did I not see you then recoil? + + Tell me how many times it has known pain; + Tell me what thing will make it feel delight; + Tell me when it is modest, when 'tis vain; + Tell me when it is wrong and when 'tis right: + But tell me this, all other things above,-- + Can it feel, Sage, the thing that man calls "Love"? + + + + +To Phyllis Reading a Letter. + + A smile is curving o'er her creamy cheek, + Her bosom swells with all a lover's joy, + When love receives a message that the coy + Young love-god made a strong and true heart speak + From far-off lands; and like a mountain-peak + That loses in one avalanche its cloy + Of ice and snow, so doth her breast employ + Its hidden store of blushes; and they wreak + Destruction, as they crush my aching heart,-- + Destruction, wild, relentless, and as sure + As the poor Alpine hamlet's; and no art + Can hide my agony, no herb can cure + My wound. Her very blush says, "We must part." + Why was it always my fate to endure? + + + + +A Rose from her hair. + + She gave me a rose from her hair, + And she hid her young heart within it. + I could hardly speak from despair, + Till she gave that rose from her hair, + And leaned out over the stair + With a blush as she stooped to pin it. + She gave me a rose from her hair, + And she hid her young heart within it. + + + + +When I told her my Love. + + When I told her my love, + She was maidenly shy, + And she bit at her glove. + + I gave Cupid a shove; + Yes, I begged him to try, + When I told her my love + + What was she thinking of + As she uttered that sigh + And she bit at her glove? + + And pray what does it prove + That she stopped there to sigh, + When I told her my love + And she bit at her glove? + + + + +My Lady, you Blushed. + + My lady, you blushed. + Was my love a surprise? + How quickly they hushed! + + A curl of yours brushed + All else from my eyes. + My lady, you blushed. + + You say that I gushed, + And they all heard my sighs? + How quickly they hushed! + + Your roses were crushed; + _N'importe_ wherefores and whys. + My lady, you blushed. + + + + +The American Slave. + + Come, muster your pleasantest smile, my dear, + And put on your prettiest gown. + Forget about Jack for a while, my dear, + His lordship has just come to town. + + He's come here to get him a wife, my dear, + And you have been put up for sale + With a marvellous income for life, my dear, + To balance your side of the scale. + + His lordship is feeble and old, my dear,-- + What odds? All the sooner he'll die. + And he has a sore need of your gold, my dear: + See the good you can do if you'll try. + + And then a real lady you'll be, my dear, + Not only by nature but name; + Mamma'll be so proud,--you can see, my dear, + No one thinks it, as you do, a shame. + + So bend your proud head. Are you faint, my dear? + Keep the tears back, be buoyant and brave. + Keep that pose! Now a portrait we'll paint, my dear, + To be called "The American Slave." + + + + +Sell Her,--That's Right. + + Sell her,--that's right! She is young, she is fair; + There's the light of the sun in the coils of her hair. + And her soul is as white as the first flakes of snow + That are falling to-night. 'T is a bargain, a "go" + Sell her,--that's right! + + Sell her,--that's right! For a bag full of gold. + Put her down in your ledger, and label her "Sold" + She's only a beauty with somebody's name, + And the Church for a pittance will wash out the shame. + Sell her,--that's right! + + + + +Time and Place. + + Hasten on! The mad moonlight is beaming + On the hatred and love 'twixt us two; + And it beams on the maid who is dreaming, + And the grave made for me or for you. + + Time and place,--love and life in the balance, + Fear and hope in the glance of your eye. + Draw your blade! Forget not we are gallants + Who can laugh at our fate as we die. + + On your guard! There'll be blood on the metal + Ere she wakes from her innocent dreams; + There's a long list of kisses to settle, + And some love sighs and death sighs, it seems. + Bare your arm! Strike for life and the maiden! + Take that! You are cautious, I fear + Speed the blow,--'tis with happiness laden + For him who does not remain here + + That and that! I am wounded,--it's over + Those kisses were destined for you; + But now she is yours and you love her, + Go tell her that I loved her too + + + + +Blood on the Rose. + + Is it dew on the rose? + 'T is the same that I gave him + Last night when I chose + To warn him and save him; + + That he pinned on his breast + With a smile at his danger, + And a smile, not in jest, + That was sweeter and stranger + + Here are footprints of foes! + Oh, my heart!--I can feel + It is blood on the rose + And a sliver of steel. + + + + +In Old Madrid. + + I strolled the streets in quest of any love, + In old Madrid long centuries ago; + I caught the perfume of a scented glove, + I saw a sweet face in a portico. + + She laughed--then paled. She leaned out; whispered, "Fly!" + And then I felt the sting of steel, the hiss + Of curses in my ear, and knew that I + Had forfeited my life--and lost a kiss. + + + + +The Duel. + + Ten paces--one, two, three, and fire! + Two gallants have their heart's desire. + + One of them dies, the other laughs; + The seconds smile, the doctor chaffs. + + A woman, smiling, dreams she's wed + To--hush, to the very one that's dead. + + + + +The Shroud. + + The snow came softly, silently, down + Into the streets of the dark old town; + And lo! by the wind it was swept and piled + On the sleeping form of a beggar-child. + + It kissed her cheek, and it filled her hair + With crystals that looked like diamonds there; + And she dreamed that she was a fair young bride + In a pure white dress by her husband's side. + + A blush crept over her pale young face, + And her thin lips smiled with a girlish grace; + But the old storm-king made his boast aloud + That his work that night was weaving a shroud. + + + + +Love's Return. + + Love has come back--ah me, the joy!-- + Greater than when Love began + To wound my heart. The jocund boy! + Love has come back a gray-haired man. + + His eyes are red with tears of woe, + His cheeks are pale, and his heart is sore; + But Love has come back at last, and, oh! + Love will be faithful evermore. + + + + +One Wish. + + My thoughts are gliding down the stream, + Ah, faster than the river flows; + And idly in my heart I dream + Of islands where the lotus grows. + + I fear not rapids, waterfall, + Or whirlpool leading down to death, + If love but my tired heart enthrall, + And I may sip a woman's breath. + + I care not what may be my fate. + Roll on, mad river, to the sea; + Drown all ambition, pride, and hate,-- + But leave one woman's love to me. + + + + +For Me. + + I heard her song, + Low in the night, + From out her casement steal away, + Nor thought it wrong + To steal a sight + Of her--and lo! she knelt to pray. + + I heard her say, + "Forgive him, Lord; + Such as he seems he cannot be." + I turned away, + Myself abhorred. + She prayed--and oh! she prayed for me. + + + + +To a Water-color. + + Sweet Phyllis, maid of yesterday, + Come down from out that frame, + And tell me why you looked so gay-- + Likewise your other name. + + Had bold Sir Plume confessed his love + And asked you if you'd wed? + And had he called you "Lovey-dove"? + And how long are you dead? + + Where did you get that wondrous gown, + Those patches, and that hair? + And how were things in London town + The last time you were there? + + And did you die a maid or wife, + Your husband lord or knave? + And how did you like this jolly life? + And how do you like the grave? + + + + +The Serenade. + + Under my casement, as I pray, + My lover sings my cares away + With many a half-forgotten lay. + + He leans against the linden-tree, + And sings old songs of Arcady + That he knows well are loved by me. + + Half through the night the sweet strains float + Like wind-blown rose-leaves, note by note, + Over the great wall and the moat, + + Up to my window, till they teem + Into my soul, and almost seem + To be there even when I dream. + + And his heart trembling beats with bliss + If I but throw him one small kiss + Just as I now throw this, and this + + + + +To the Rose in her hair. + + Poor little rose, I pity you-- + Sweet as Oporto's wind when fruity-- + Tortured an evil hour or two, + Just to adorn a wilful beauty. + + I know her well, too well, alas! + (Just watch the fairy as she dances.) + She wears my heart--but let that pass; + It's dead: she killed it with her glances. + + Your fate, poor rose, is such as mine,-- + To be despised when you are faded; + Yet she's an angel--too divine + To be by you or me upbraided. + + + + +Her Reverie. + + A lady combed her silken hair. + None but a looking-glass would dare + To gaze on such a scene. + The blushes thronged her dimpled cheek; + They coursed upon her shoulders, eke, + And the white neck between. + + And she was thinking then, I trow, + Of one who, in a whispered vow + Beneath the budding elm, + Had told her they would sail their barque + On lakes where pale stars pierced the dark, + With Cupid at the helm. + + Anon, a faint smile pursed her lips + And shook her dainty finger-tips, + As breezes shake the boughs; + And then a quick, impetuous frown + Came gathering from her ringlets down, + And perched upon her brows. + + Ah, she was thinking then, I ween, + Of me, poor clumsy dunce, who e'en + Had torn her silken dress. + I waltzed too near her at the ball; + Her beauty dazed me--that was all; + I felt a dizziness. + + + + +To Beauty. + + "Oh, Mistress Beauty," said my sigh, + "I'd laugh to scorn all other blisses, + If you and I might live and die + Together on such fare as kisses. + + "Your kirtle would not be of silk, + The band around it but torn leather. + I think our wine would be plain milk; + I think we'd oft see stormy weather. + + "But, oh, there are some things in life + Worth more to men than fame or money; + And one of them's a sweet young wife, + So pure, so honest, and so bonnie." + + + + +Dreaming of You. + + My soul feels refreshed, like a rose kissed by dew, + When waking I know I've been dreaming of you. + + They thought I was mad. Ah, my sweet, if they knew + That my malady simply was dreaming of you! + + I've one wish. 'Tis to sleep all the long ages through + By your side, you my bride, and I dreaming of you. + + + + +Please Return. + + Now, all you pretty maids in town, + Take heed of my sad plight. + I've lost a kiss; I'll give a crown + To get it back to-night. + + I threw it, poet-like, I own, + Up to a silvery star; + I must confess I might have known + I could not throw so far. + + But, oh, surprise! It circled round, + And sank as though 't were laden + With love--when almost to the ground + 'T was caught by some young maiden. + + And that young maid I wish to find. + I've lost a kiss, alack! + It is not hers. She'll not be kind + Unless she give it back. + + + + +Almost Dying of Ennui. + + What are the charms of the sea? + Oh for an hour of the city! + What are the dull waves to me? + Can they say anything witty? + + What do they care for my lips? + Why did I come? It's a pity! + Nothing but water and ships, + And Jack far away in the city. + + Oh for one ride in the park, + With Jack humming bars from a ditty; + Kissing me (when it grows dark). + Fy! Oh--heigho, for the city! + + + + +Jacks from Jack. + + Fresh, fragrant, tempting, balmy, red-- + What fool would send them back? + Why do I wish that I were dead, + With all these jacks from Jack? + + Why do I bite my lips and frown, + Tear buttons off my sacque, + When, just returning to the town, + I get these jacks from Jack? + + Alas, for pleasure's giddy whirl, + For summer lost, alack! + He's off to see some other girl; + That's why mere jacks from Jack. + + + + +Hyacinths. + + Hyacinths, tenderly sweet, + Is it life that you ask in your prayer? + Ah, I would die at her feet, + If I could be one of you there. + + There on her billowy breast, + So near to her innocent heart, + That its beating would lull me to rest, + And to dream I should never depart. + + Sighing are you for the stars? + Look in the depths of her eyes. + Is there a gem of the Czar's + So much like those gems of the skies? + + Is it the dew that you miss? + Hyacinths, hyacinths, wait. + Soon she will give you a kiss. + Oh, how I envy your fate! + + + + +In The Waltz. + + +AN ECHO FROM A SEASIDE HOP. + + Light as the waves foaming white on the bar, + We dance to the mandolin, harp, and guitar; + One, two, three, waltzing we glide round the room,-- + Would you were bride, and ah, would I were groom! + + On all the seashore none fairer than you; + What but adore you could any one do? + Cheeks like the pink of an evening sky, + Eyes that might bid a man laughingly die. + + Ears like the shells from the Indian sea, + Teeth like white buds on a young apple-tree, + Throat like a lily bent heavy with dew, + Arms just as white and as lily-like too. + + Lips that would tempt--ah! you'll pardon me now, + Being so near them suggests, you'll allow, + That the happiest thing e'er a mortal could do, + Would be to be ever thus waltzing with you. + + + + +She Is Mine. + + There's a sparkle in her eye + That no millionnaire can buy. + If they think so, let them try-- + She's divine. + + There's a blush upon her cheek + Like the peach-tree's blossom, eke, + Like red willows by the creek, + Or like wine. + + She has roses in her hair. + It was I who put them there. + Really, did I ever dare-- + Is she mine? + + Or is it all a dream,-- + Idle poet's empty theme + Put in words that make it seem + Superfine? + + No; for see upon her hand + There's a little golden band,-- + Filigree work, understand, + Like a vine; + + And a perfect solitaire + Fits upon it. The affair + Cost two hundred. I don't care! + She is mine. + + + + +Old Times. + + Ah, good old times of belles and beaux, + Of powdered wigs and wondrous hose, + Of stately airs and careful grace, + Look you at our degenerate race. + + No more the gallant spends his time + In writing of his love in rhyme; + No more he lives unconscious of + All earthly things save war and love. + + We modern men have toils and cares + To streak our pates with whitened hairs, + And have to crowd our love and all + Into one short and weekly call. + + + + +Of My Love. + + Was ever a moon + In joyous June + As royal, radiant, rare as she, + With her smiling lips, + As she lightly trips + Down through the autumn woods to me? + + Never a queen + On her throne, I ween, + Had such a loyal slave as I. + Ready to bear + All her cares, I swear, + Just for a fleeting kiss on the sly. + + Oh for the day + We gallop away + To the curate's cottage, Gretna Green; + Side by side, + Groom and bride, + Happy twenty and sweet sixteen! + + + + +The Farewell. + + Not going abroad? What, to-morrow, + And to stay, goodness knows for how long? + Really, Jack, 'twould appear that dry sorrow + Had done even you, sir, a wrong. + + It has? Ha, ha, ha! What a joke, sir! + Is it Mabel or Jenny or Nell? + I'm sure you are wrong,--hold my cloak, sir,-- + Am I not an old friend? Come now, tell. + + The prince of our set broken-hearted! + What a joke! Who rejected you? Speak! + Did you look like that, Jack, when you parted? + Was that pallor of death on your cheek? + + You interest me. Tell me about it; + And let your old chum, sir, console. + Hard hit in the heart. I don't doubt it; + You were made for that sort of a rôle. + + Did you bend on your knee, like an actor, + Hardly knowing just where to begin? + Was dear mamma's consent the main factor? + What a fool the poor girl must have been! + + Who was she? What!--I?--You were jealous? + O, Jack, who'd have thought such a thing? + You've been certainly not over-zealous. + But kiss me--and where is the ring? + + + + +The Last Dance. + +AN INCIDENT IN A WINDOW SEAT. + + _He_: Well, how many conquests? I fancy a score + By the flush on your cheeks and your shoulders. + + _She_: A bore! + + _He_: Oh, nonsense; a debutante just out of school + Who can rule with a smile what a king could not rule, + From young Harry, her prince, to myself, her poor fool! + Come, tell me, did Harry propose? + + _She_: What a goose + You would think me to tell you, and then of what use + Could it be? + + _He_: Well, it might give me hope, where before + There was none,--quite a boon from the lips you adore + When you 're hungry for love. + + _She (coquetting)_: Or who knows but it might-- + + _He_: Yes, it might blot from life every semblance of light + As the clouds blot the moon on a storm-troubled night. + But tell me. + + _She_: He did. + + _He_: And your answer was? + + _She_: No. + + _He_: You mean it, or are you coquetting yet? + + _She_: Oh! + I just told him I cared for another--he smiled. + It was merely to him so much pleasure beguiled + From a girl. Charge it up profit?--loss?--tell me which? + He thinks I am pretty, they say, but, not rich. + He would love me, perhaps, for a season or two, + So I told him that I loved another. + + _He_: And who? + + _She (archly)_: Really, must I tell _you?_ + + _He_: No--your finger--yes, this! + A solitaire--done! and now quickly! + + _She (feigning reluctance)_: One! + + _He (ecstatically)_: Kiss. + + + + +Why he asked for a Vacation. + + "Dear Jack: + It's delightfully gay here,-- + Old Paris seemed never so fine,-- + And mamma says we're going to stay here, + And papa--well, papa sips his wine + And says nothing. You know him of old, dear. + He's only too happy to rest,-- + After making three millions in gold, dear. + He's played out, it must be confessed,-- + And I--I'm to wed an old Baron + Three weeks from to-day, in great style + (He's as homely and gaunt as old Charon, + And they say that his past has been vile); + And I've promised to cut you hereafter,-- + Small chance, though, we ever shall meet,-- + So let's turn our old love into laughter, + And face the thing through. Shall we, sweet? + Can you give me up, Jack, to this _roué_, + Just because we may always be poor? + There's still enough time, dear, _et tu es_ + _Un brave_,--you will come, I am sure. + Put your trunk on the swiftest Cunarder, + And don't give me up, Jack, for--well, + There are things in this world that are harder + Than poverty. Come to me! + + NELL." + + + + +The Editor's Valentine. + + The editor sat in his old arm-chair + (Half his work undone he was well aware), + While the flickering light in the dingy room + Made the usual newspaper office gloom. + + Before him news from the North and South, + A long account of a foreign drouth, + A lot of changes in local ads, + The report of a fight between drunken cads, + + And odds and ends and smoke and talk,-- + A reporter drawing cartoons in chalk + On the dirty wall, while others laughed, + And one wretch whistled, and all of them chaffed. + + But the editor leaned far back in his chair; + He ran his hands through his iron-gray hair, + And stole ten minutes from work to write + A valentine to his wife that night. + + He thought of metre, he thought of rhyme. + 'Twas a race between weary brains and time. + He tried to write as he used to when + His heart was as young as his untried pen. + + He started a sonnet, but gave it up. + A rondeau failed for a rhyme to "cup." + And the old clock ticked his time away, + For the editor's mind would go astray. + + He thought of the days when they were young, + And all but love to the winds was flung, + He thought of the way she used to wear + Her wayward tresses of golden hair. + + He thought of the way she used to blush. + He thought of the way he used to gush. + And a smile and a tear went creeping down + The face that so long had known a frown. + + And this is what the editor wrote: + No poem--merely a little note, + Simple and manly, but tender, too; + Three little words--they were, "I love you." + + + + +Acting. + + Ah, my arms hold you fast! How can they be so bold + When my hands offer nothing of silver or gold? + + Can it be that I see a new light in your eye? + Can it be that I heard then a womanly sigh? + + Ah, I feel such delight, and such joy, such surprise, + That I hardly dare lift my own sight to your eyes + + Ah, my arms hold you fast, and my lips touch your cheek, + And I'm crying, "Love, answer me; speak to me--speak!" + + And the answer you give to my longing distress + Is that word, with a blush and a kiss, that word "Yes." + + Ah, my arms hold you fast, and I burn with a fire + That nothing but long-waiting love can inspire. + + Yet I know you mean nothing--mean nothing, because + It's mere acting. Ah me, I can hear the applause. + + + + +An Apache Love-Song.[1] + + A-atana she was here. + A-atana I was dear. + She will never come again. + Chill my heart, O wind and rain. + A-atana she was here. + + Hark, the wind asks "Hi-you?" + And I answer "A-coo, + Ustey with your bitter cold; + U-ga-sha, my love of old." + Still the wind asks "Hi-you?" + + "Hi-you?" I know not where. + A-oo, I hardly care. + Take it to the land of snow; + Take it where the stars all go. + "Hi-you?" I do not care. + + It-sau-i did it all-- + It-sau-i, proud and tall. + Tell her I have gone to fight. + Ask her if her heart is light. + It-sau-i did it all. + +[Footnote 1: _A-atana_, yesterday. _Hi-you_, where. _A-coo_, here. +_U's-tey_, come, or bring. _U'-ga-sha_, go, or take. _A-oo_, yes. I have +no authority for the spelling of these words. I rendered them +phonetically from the pronunciation of a young Apache whom I hired to +teach me the language. Many Apache words have no perceptible accent. A, +here, has the sound of a in father.] + + + + +The Old-fashioned Girl. + + There's an old-fashioned girl in an old fashioned street, + Dressed in old-fashioned clothes from her head to her feet; + And she spends all her time in the old-fashioned way + Of caring for poor people's children all day. + + She never has been to cotillon or ball, + And she knows not the styles of the Spring or the Fall; + Two hundred a year will suffice for her needs, + And an old-fashioned Bible is all that she reads. + + And she has an old-fashioned heart that is true + To a fellow who died in an old coat of blue, + With its buttons all brass,--who is waiting above + For the woman who loved him with old-fashioned love. + + + + +A Retrospect. + + I was poor as a beggar,--she knew it,-- + But proud as a king through it all; + Though it cost me two dollars to do it, + I took little Meg to the ball. + + Mere calico served her for satin; + My broadcloth was made of blue jeans. + Without crest or a motto in Latin, + Meg's style was as grand as a queen's. + + And we were in dreamland all through it, + And I do not regret it at all; + Though it cost me two dollars to do it, + I took little Meg to the ball. + + + + +Hard Hit. + + I guess that I'm done for, old chappie! + Done, whether she loves me or not,-- + But don't look so deuced unhappy,-- + Y'know it was I fired the shot. + + Thanks, awfully. Give me the whiskey,-- + There's a horrible pain in my head; + It's queer that my nerves should be frisky + When my heart is as heavy as lead. + + I'm worthless; I own it! She told me, + That night at the Country Club ball,-- + Don't try, dear old fellow, to hold me,-- + Ah, Nellie!--it's over!--don't call! + + She told me my life had been wasted, + That my money had ruined my mind, + That I'd not left a pleasure untasted,-- + Had been a disgrace to mankind! + + And now she's to marry another,-- + A poor man, but honest and strong, + Who had never a passion to smother, + And never a chance to do wrong. + + He loves her. They'll all think it funny + I don't curse him and kill him, old fel; + But she loves him. I've left him my money,-- + For I love her--God bless her! Farewell! + + + + +Rejected. + + Aw, yes, bah Jove. I thought you'd answer "No." + But still a fellah 's got to awsk, you see. + And then there was the chance you might outgrow + That way you had of making fun of me. + + Three years in Europe sometimes make a change + In girls like you, who've always been adored; + And when you laughed, I thought it rawther strange. + Aw, I beg pawdon; p'haps you feel, aw--bored. + + You don't? You think it fun--a fellah's pains + At words like yours? You don't know how they smart. + I know you think I haven't any brains; + But still, Miss Nellie, I've a--I've a heart. + + + + +Jokers + + + + +Her Yachting Cap. + + Oh, the little yachting cap + That is lying in her lap + Has a sort of fascination for poor me. + It is made of something white, + And she wears it day and night, + Through the weeks she spends each summer by the sea. + + She can make of it a fan, + And, when necessary, can + Hide her face behind it, if she chance to blush. + It has carried caramels, + Chocolate drops, and pretty shells, + And I've even seen her use it as a brush. + + But still it has one fault + In my eyes. I'd better halt, + Had I not, and ponder well what I shall say? + She is darting warning glances. + Well, under certain circumstances, + The visor's always getting in my way. + + + + +Theft. + + The moonlight steals around the pine; + Star-eyes steal radiance from thine. + + Low music steals upon the ear; + Can there be theft when thou art near? + + I steel my heart for fear of this,-- + I steel my heart and steal a kiss. + + I'd steal the sacramental wine + If it were sweet as kiss of thine! + + + + +Before her Mirror. + + I pause before her mirror and reflect + (That's what the mirror does, I take it, too); + Reflect how little it has known neglect, + And think, "O mirror, would that I were you." + + She has no secrets that you do not know, + You and yon crescent box of poudre de rose. + And even these long curling irons can show + Much evidence of use, yet naught disclose. + + Here, when she smiles, _you_ know it is her teeth + She's putting to the test ere she depart + For the gay revel on the lawn beneath, + Or moonlight ramble that may break a heart. + + Here she may blush, until she, red as wine, + Knows that her triumphs have not ceased to be. + Here, when she frowns, and looks still more divine, + You know, wise mirror, that she thinks of me. + + + + +At Old Point Comfort. + + You don't think of dresses, or ducats, or dukes; + You don't care for chaperone's rigid rebukes; + It's just simply grand, + To lie there on the sand, + Down at the beach,-- + If a man's within reach. + + Some like the moonlight and some like the sun, + Some flirt in earnest and some flirt in fun; + It's worth all the rash, + Reckless spending of cash, + All the dresses you spoil, + All the tempers you roil, + Down at the beach,-- + If a man's within reach. + + It's better than sleigh-rides, cotillons, or teas, + It makes the dull Patriarch's knickerbocked knees + Shake in the dance, + And then one has a chance, + If one's pretty and smart, + With a tongue not too tart, + Of presenting papaw + With a new son-in-law, + Down at the beach,-- + If a man's within reach. + + + + +A Drop Too Much. + + I praised her hair, I praised her lips, + She looked up with surprise; + I bowed to kiss her finger-tips, + And then she dropped her eyes. + + I said love ruled the world; that I + Adored her; called her "Nan." + She merely looked a little shy, + And then she dropped her fan. + + I took the hint, and at her feet + I knelt--yes, quite absurd; + But oh, my fond heart wildly beat + To hear her drop a word. + + I told her all: my talents few, + My direful lack of pelf. + (We all have erred.) She said "Adieu," + And then dropped me myself. + + + + +Ingratitude. + + Last night young Cupid lost his way, + And came to me to find it. + He'd been a truant all the day, + But didn't seem to mind it. + + I put him in a hansom then + For home, and feed the cabby; + But my reward was what most men + Would call extremely shabby. + + He got his bow and arrows out, + And pierced my heart, nor tarried, + But drove away ere I could shout, + "Great Heavens, Cupe, I'm married!" + + + + +A Few Resolutions. + +(_With Reservations_) + + He shall never know that I love him-- + Until he asks if I do. + And I'll feel very much above him-- + When he stoops to tie my shoe. + + And I shall never kiss him-- + Until he kisses me. + And I shall never miss him-- + Till he sails over the sea. + + And I shall never wed him, + Nor call myself his bride-- + Till Cupid and I have led him + Right up to the minister's side. + + + + +A Dilemma. + + A letter for me, + From the girl that I love! + Just penned by her hand + And caressed by her glove. + A jewel--a gem--ah! + A letter from Emma. + + A letter for me, + Oh, what joy, what surprise! + Just kissed by her lips-- + At least, blest by her eyes. + 'T is opened--ahem, ah! + A letter from Emma. + + A letter for me, + From my sweet little bird. + Eight pages, by Jove! + And I can't read a word. + A precious dilemma, + This letter from Emma! + + + + +A Choice not Necessary. + + Here is a rose, + Here is a kiss; + Which do you choose? + One rhymes with prose; + One rhymes with bliss. + Ah, you amuse. + + You hesitate, + You blush, you sigh. + What! are you loath? + 'Tis getting late; + Be quick-- + Fool, take them both! + + + + +That Boston Girl. + + Her voice is sweet, + Her style is neat; + She'd move the world with but a pen. + Her mind is clear; + Her sight, though near, + Is long enough to capture men. + What matters it her learning, then? + + + + +The Hero. + + He looked so handsome, proud, and brave, + As he stood there, straight and tall, + With his steadfast eyes, so gray, so grave, + The beau of the Hunt Club ball. + + Ah me, full many a white breast sighed + For the favor of his hand,-- + For the love of a heart so true, so tried, + For life, you understand. + + He looked a hero; he was more, + A martyr, too, perchance; + For he went to the oldest girl on the floor, + And led her out to dance. + + + + +The Sweet Summer Girl. + + She has hair that is fluffy, straight, banged, or half curled; + Has a parasol, oft by her deft fingers twirled. + She has eyes either brown or black, gray or true blue; + Has a neat fitting glove and a still neater shoe. + + She has cheeks that make bitter the envious rose; + She has trunks upon trunks of the costliest clothes; + She has jewels that shine as the stars do at night; + And she dances as Ariel dances--or might. + + She knows nothing much, but she's great on the smile; + Her profession is love, and she flirts all the while; + She's accustomed to sitting on rocks in the glen; + She is also accustomed to sitting on men. + + + + +Her Fan. + + A dainty thing of silk and lace, + Of feathers, and of paint, + Held often to her laughing face + When I assume the saint. + + Too dainty far to mix with these + Old pipes, cigars, and books + Of bachelordom,--rare life of ease,-- + Rare friends, rare wines, rare cooks. + + 'Twill smell of stale tobacco smoke + Ere many days I fear, + And hear full many a rattling joke, + And feel, perhaps, a tear. + + Why is it here? Alas for me! + I broke it at a ball. + "Apologize--repair it" See? + Five dollars gone,--that's all. + + + + +Certainty. + + Phyllis, love may be for you, + But it is not for me; + For fortune comes between us two, + And says it must not be. + + Another fellow's fortune, too; + A million, as I know. + You ask me how I found it out? + Your mater told me so. + + + + +Caught. + + When Phyllis turned her eyes on me + I blushed and hesitated; + For though on terms familiar, we + Were not at all related. + + I felt her mild, reproachful glance, + And knew her words would rankle. + To tell the truth, I had, by chance, + Been looking at her ankle. + + + + +An Important Distinction. + + She said, without a single sigh, + And hardly hesitation, + That she would be my sister, aye, + Or any fond relation. + + I answered cunningly, "Ah me, + I've sisters by the dozen; + Please make it in the next degree, + For one may wed a cousin." + + + + +Two Kinds. + + Oh, her eyes, her beautiful eyes! + How they melt when she sobs or she sighs! + How they droop + When she blushes! + How they flash + When she crushes + The love she's compelled to disguise! + + Oh, her i's, her beautiful i's! + Who can tell them apart though he tries + From her m's + Or her e's, + N's, or u's + As you please + In her letters? I offer a prize. + + + + +What it Is. + + Just a little melancholy, + Just a tear or two, + Just a word that's naughty, + Just a spiteful "pooh!" + + Just an extra cocktail, + Just a flower-bill due, + Just another ring to take + Unto my friend, the Jew. + That is what it is to be + Rejected, Miss, by you. + + + + +In her Pew. + + She looked up from her pew + (Why she did, Heaven knows); + But I smiled; wouldn't you? + 'T was the right thing to do; + And, pshaw, nobody knew. + Then I tried hard to pose, + But a look of hers froze + All my blood. And I woo + Her in future, old chappie, when not in her pew. + + + + +The Suspicious Lover to the Star. + + O silver star, + That seeth far, + Tell my poor heart what she is doing; + And ease my pain, + Who would again + Be at her side, and still be wooing. + + Does she regret + The token set + By me upon her slender finger? + Or in the dance + Do her eyes glance + At it sometimes,--and sometimes linger? + + Be, silver star, + Particular, + And do not be afraid of hurting. + I know her well, + And truth to tell, + I fear my lady love is flirting. + + + + +A Slight Surprise. + + Come, lovely Laura! strike the lyre, + And I will sing a song to thee + That will thy maiden heart inspire + With love, and love alone for me. + + Why hesitate? Come, strike the lyre! + Down where the chord is minor D. + Of wooing thee I'll never tire. + Good gracious! Why do you strike me? + + + + +Past vs. Present. + + Through all the days I courted her + My memory fondly floats, + When love and I exhorted her + To read, re-read my notes. + + But now I love her ten times more, + And my soul fairly gloats + To think that my hard times are o'er,-- + For now she pays my notes. + + + + +The Usual Way. + + Three young maidens sat in a row, + With three grim dragons behind 'em; + And each of these maidens had a young beau, + And they all of 'em made 'em mind 'em. + + These three maidens are married now; + In three brown-stone fronts you'll find 'em. + But ever since the very first row + They can none of 'em make 'em mind 'em. + + + + +A Difference in Style. + + Sweet Phyllis sat upon a stile, + With love and me beside her, + Her red lips in a pouting smile. + A pout? Her eyes belied her. + + My thoughts were merry as the day,-- + And though the joke was shocking,-- + I shouted quick, and turned away: + "A spider's on your stocking!" + + The fun, of course, I did not see, + But heard an exclamation + That sounded much like "Gracious me!" + And guessed the consternation. + + Then Phyllis sat upon the style + Of men who would deride her; + But she no longer sits the while + With love and me beside her. + + + + +Afraid. + + Down the broad stairs, + Stranger to cares, + My love comes tripping and smiling and free; + The snows on her breast + Are a blush unconfessed. + I wonder what fate has in waiting for me? + + My heart seems to throb + Like a broken-paced cob; + I fear I'm a coward in love, as they say. + She's commencing to laugh; + How the fellows will chaff. + By Jove, I'm not going to ask her to-day. + + + + +Ye Retort Exasperating. + + "Sweete maide," ye lovesicke youthe remarked, + "Thou'rt fickle as my star! + By far ye worste I ever sparked, + You are! You really are! + + Albeit yt my brains are nil, + I'm gallante as can be; + I'lle be to you whate'er you wille, + If you'lle be more to me." + + "Faire youthe," ye maide replied, "I do + Not barter, as a rule, + But I'lle be sister untoe you,-- + Be you my Aprille foole." + + + + +A Rhyming Reverie. + + It was a dainty lady's glove; + A souvenir to rhyme with love. + + It was the memory of a kiss, + So called to make it rhyme with bliss. + + There was a month at Mt. Desert, + Synonymous and rhymes with flirt. + + A pretty girl and lots of style, + Which rhymes with happy for a while. + + There came a rival old and bold, + To make him rhyme with gold and sold. + + A broken heart there had to be. + Alas, the rhyme just fitted me. + + + + +A Sure Winner. + + Oh, treat me not with cold disdain, + My pretty maids of fashion; + Look upon the hearts you've slain, + And listen to my passion. + + Though I am not so peerly proud + As men of higher station, + So handsome that the madding crowd + Collects in admiration; + + And have, perhaps, too great a store + Of sandy hair and freckles, + I've mortgages and bonds galore, + And muchly many shekels. + + You yet may journey league or mile + To wed, as you're aware. + Come, cease your longing for mere style, + And take A. MILLIONNAIRE. + + + + +Tantalization. + + She stands beneath the mistletoe + As though she did not know it. + She looks quite unconcerned, you know, + And pretty, yes,--but, blow it, + + I have to turn and walk away; + I'll have revenge anon. + She knows quite well, alack the day, + That my wife is looking on. + + + + +His Usual Fate. + + All one season + Lost to reason, + Breathing sea air + By the beach, where + Young hearts mingle, + Love was playful + All the day full. + We were single. + + Now with mournful + Looks and scornful + Turns he too us; + He is through us, + Worried, harried. + Love is sighing; + Love is dying. + We are married. + + + + +On Two Letters from Her. + + I wrote her a letter. It took her quite two + To answer it after she'd read it. + My letter contained what perhaps even you + Have written,--at least, you have said it. + + My letter contained the old tale of a heart + That longed to be linked to another; + And I told her to think on each separate part, + And ask the advice of her mother. + + She apparently did, for the very next mail + Brought me a message of woe. + It took her two letters; they made me turn pale; + For they were the letters "N" "O". + + + + +A Serenade--en Deux Langues. + + Sous le maple, mort de night, + Avec le lune beams shining through, + Ecoutez-moi, mon hapless plight. + Je vous aime--qui lovez-vous? + + Je plink les strings de mon guitar. + Il fait bien froid; J'am nervous, too. + Dites-moi, dites-moi ce que vous are? + Je vous aime; qui lovez-vous? + + Tu es si belle, je veux vous wed. + Mon père est riche--comme riche est you? + Bonne nuit, adieu; J'ai cold in head. + Je vous aime--qui lovez-vous. + + + + +When a Girl says "No." + + When a girl says "Yes," + There's a quick caress, + A kiss, a sigh, + A melting eye. + There's a vision of things + That hard cash brings,-- + A winter at Nice + With a servant apiece, + A long yachting cruise, + Name in "personal news," + Plenty of wine, + Two hours to dine; + But it's different quite when a girl says "No." + + When a girl says "No," + It's so different, oh! + No kiss, ten sighs, + Two tear-dimmed eyes. + There's a vision of things + That poverty brings,-- + A winter complete + On Uneasy Street, + A temptation to rob, + A twelve-dollar job, + A boarding-house meal, + And you pray a new deal; + For it's different quite when a girl says "No." + + + + +Uncertainty. + + Jenny has a laughing eye, + Yet she is most wondrous shy. + But why? + + Jenny says she hates the men; + Still she'll marry. Artful Jen! + But when? + + I've a rival who is rich; + With one of us sweet Jen will hitch. + But which? + + + + +Her Peculiarities. + +_The Question of the Learned Man_. + + How doth the little blushing maid + Employ each shining hour? + Doth she, in sober thought arrayed, + Learn knowledge that is power? + + Say, doth she mend her father's socks, + And cook his evening meal? + And doth she make her own sweet frocks + With adolescent zeal? + + + + +_The Reply of the Observant Youth_. + + Not much; not much. She knows it all; + She doth not need to learn. + She thinks of naught but rout or ball, + And which youth will be her'n. + + She hustles for a diamond ring; + She cares not for her dad. + She does not make him anything,-- + Except, she makes him mad. + + + + +Tying the Strings of her Shoe. + + Tying the strings of her shoe, + With only the moon to see me. + Could I be quick? Could you? + That is the time to woo + What would any one do? + I tied no knot that would free me, + Tying the strings of her shoe, + With only the moon to see me. + + + + +When You are Rejected. + + Don't say + "Good day," + Then grab the door and slam it. + Be quite + Polite; + Go out, and then say, "---- it." + + + + +A Bachelor's Views. + + A pipe, a book, + A cosy nook, + A fire,--at least its embers; + A dog, a glass;-- + 'T is thus we pass + Such hours as one remembers. + + Who'd wish to wed? + Poor Cupid's dead + These thousand years, I wager. + The modern maid + Is but a jade, + Not worth the time to cage her. + + In silken gown + To "take" the town + Her first and last ambition. + What good is she + To you or me + Who have but a "position"? + + So let us drink + To her,--but think + Of him who has to keep her; + And _sans_ a wife + Let's spend our life + In bachelordom,--it's cheaper. + + + + +My Cigarette. + + Ma pauvre petite, + My little sweet, + Why do you cry? + Why this small tear, + So pure and clear, + In each blue eye? + + 'My cigarette-- + I'm smoking yet?' + (I'll be discreet.) + I toss it, see, + Away from me + Into the street. + + You see I do + All things for you. + Come, let us sup. + (But oh, what joy + To be that boy + Who picked it up.) + + + + +Discovered. + +AN EPISODE ON BEACON HILL. + + You are frowning; + I don't wonder. + Reading Browning; + Hard as thunder! + + Oh, excuse me; + You adore it? + You amuse me; + I abhor it. + + Let me see it. + Who has taught you? + Now to me it-- + Ah, I've caught you. + + It _must_ be hard so + (Hence the frown?) + To read the bard so-- + Upside down. + + + + +The Ice in the Punch. + + The wail of the 'cello is soft, sweet, and low; + There are strains of romance in the thrumming banjo. + The violin's note--feel it float in your ear; + And the harp makes one fancy that angels are near. + + The voice of a young girl can reach to the heart; + The song of the baritone--well, it is art. + The flute and the lute in gavotte--the guitar + In soft serenade--how entrancing they are! + But to all the mad millions + Who dance at cotillons + There's naught like the clink and the clank and the crunch + Of the ice in the punch. + + So here's to the recipe, ancient in Spain, + And here's to the basket of cobwebbed champagne. + Again to the genius who grows the sharp spice, + But ten times to King Winter who furnishes ice; + For to all the mad millions + Who dance at cotillons + There's naught like the clink and the clank and the crunch + Of the ice in the punch. + + + + +The Tale of a Broken Heart. + + She was a + Beautiful, + Dutiful, + Grand, + And rollicking queen of Bohemia, + With a cheek that was + Rosier, + Cosier, + And + As soft as a lily, and creamier. + + She was always com- + pelling me, + Selling me, + I + Was her slave, but she treated me shamefully. + She went on the + Stage, was a + Rage, as a-- + Why-- + As a page, and they spoke of her blamefully. + And then in the + Papers her + Capers were + Writ. + + I love her no longer,--I swear it; + But I oft spend a + Dollar and + Holler and + Sit + Through her antics. Oh, how can I bear it? + + + + +Where did you get it? + + Pray, ladies, ye of wondrous clothes, + That draw admiring "ahs!" and "ohs!" + And "By Joves!" as men chat, + Permit me,--love the right bestows,-- + Where did you get that hat? + + The very hat, sweet maids, I mean, + So often now on Broadway seen, + That is so very flat; + Black as a rule, but sometimes green. + Where did you get that hat? + + In shape an oyster-dish,--the crown,-- + A ribbon bristles up and down, + Quite striking--yes, all that; + The sweetest, neatest thing in town! + Where _did_ you get that hat? + + + + +No + + "No!" The word + Fell upon my ears + Like the knell of a funeral bell. + I had fondly expected + A whispered "yes" that + Would steal into my soul + Like the song of an angel + From some distant Aidenn. + I arose and brushed off + The knees of my trousers. + "Farewell," I said; "you have ruined my life." + "Nonsense," she replied in the cold, cutting voice + Of a woman who has been used to $100 bills + And a coupé; + + "There have been thirty-seven before you, and they + Are all married and happy now. + You see I know all about young men." + "I do not think a young, timid girl + Should 'No' so much," I answered. And going out + (Carefully escorted by the butler, for there was + A better overcoat than mine in the hall), + I left her alone and unloved,--with no one to care for her + Save a couple of dozen servants + And a doting father and mother. + + + + +A Midsummer Night's Tempest. + +AN EPILOGUE TO HAMLET, PERFORMED BY AMATEURS. + +SCENE: _Elsinore--a platform before the castle (on an improvised stage). +Inky darkness. Shade of Hamlet (solus)_. + + _Shade of Hamlet_: Oh, did you see him, did you see the knave, + The spindle-shanked, low-browed, and cock-eyed + Clerk to an attorney, play at Hamlet, + Dream-souled Hamlet, wearing an eyeglass? + Oh, it was horrible. + + (_Enter Shade of Laertes_.) + + _Shade of Laertes_: What's the matter with Hamlet? + + _S. of H._: He's not all right. + No, by the fame of Shakespeare, he's all wrong. + A certain convocation of talented amateurs + Are e'en at him. + Your amateur is your only emperor for talent; + There's not a genius in the universe + Who will essay as much. + + _S. of L._: Or, who will imitate nature so abominably. + Your head is level, Ham., and I--even I, + Laertes, suffered at the hands of one + Whose fiery hair, parted in the middle + Like a cranberry pie, caused me to believe + That some of nature's journeymen had made a man, + And not made him well, he imitated nature + So abominably. + + _S. of H._: Ha' the fair Ophelia! + + _(Enter Shade of Ophelia_.) + + _S. of O._: Yes, my lord, thine own Ophelia, + Come back to earth with heaviness o' grief + Thy madness ne'er begot, for I have seen + The efforts of a lisping, smirking maid, + As graceful as a bean-pole, and as lean. + Attempt to paint the sorrow of my heart. + Oh, I would get me to a nunnery. + + _S of H._: Let me Ophelyour pulse. + Mad--quite mad; and all because + A creature whom these mortals call a Miss, + Quite properly, as her efforts are amiss, + Would fain portray thee. Soft you, now! + O fair Ophelia. Nymph in thine orisons + Be all her sins remembered. + Why let the stricken deer go weep, + The untrained amateur play? + All those that watch must surely weep. + So wise men stay away. + + (_Flickering blue lights and curtain_.) + + + + +The Abused Gallant. + + Two lovely maidens (woe is me!) + Play tennis with my heart; + And each is wondrous fair to see, + And each is wondrous smart. + + In learning, money, beauty, birth, + None can surpass them--none. + But each receives my "court" with mirth, + And tells the other one. + + My "court"! The term is fitly used-- + A tennis court, you see. + And I know well I am abused, + By the "racket" they give me. + + Maud strikes my heart a brutal blow, + And Mabel cries out, "Fault!" + And back and forth I undergo + A feminine assault. + + Maud asks my age. Alas! I hear + Sweet Mabel say, "The goose + Is very nearly forty, dear." + Maud answers, "Oh, 'the deuce'!" + + And so my poor heart with their wit + Is volleyed oft and oft, + Till Mabel cries, while holding it, + "This heart is far too soft." + + And firing it into the net, + She says, with girlish vim, + "Although he isn't in our 'set,' + We're making 'game' of him." + + And making game they are, I swear + By all the saints above, + With all the terms of tennis there + Save but the sweetest, "love." + + + + +After the Ball. + + A last word in the vestibule, + A touch of taper fingers, + A scent of roses, sweet and cool, + When she has gone still lingers. + + He pauses at the carriage door + To sigh a bit and ponder + He thinks the matter o'er and o'er, + And all his senses wander. + + With mantle thrown aside in haste, + Her heart a bit uncertain, + And neither time nor love to waste, + She watches through the curtain. + + And she has played him well, he knows + Nor has he dared to stop her. + She wonders when he will propose; + He wonders how he'll drop her. + + + + +Vanity Fair. + + Oh, whence, oh, where + Is Vanity Fair? + I want to be seen with the somebodies there. + I've money and beauty and college-bred brains; + Though my 'scutcheon's not spotless, who'll mind a few stains? + To caper I wish in the chorus of style, + And wed an aristocrat after a while + So please tell me truly, and please tell me fair, + Just how many miles it's from Madison Square. + + It's here, it's there, + Is Vanity Fair. + It's not like a labyrinth, not like a lair. + It's North and it's South, and it's East and it's West; + You can see it, oh, anywhere, quite at its best. + Dame Fashion is queen, Ready Money is king, + You can join it, provided you don't know a thing. + It's miles over here, and it's miles over there; + And it's not seven inches from Madison Square. + + + + +For the Long Voyage. + + "Were I a captain bold," I said, + And gently clasped her hand, + "Wouldst sail with me, by fancy led, + To every foreign strand? + + "Wouldst help me furl my silver sail, + And be my trusty crew? + Wouldst stand by in the midnight gale, + My pilot tried and true?" + + "Well, no," she answered, blushing red, + "Such heavy work I hate. + But,"--listen what the maiden said,-- + "I would be your first mate." + + + + + This is the end. + + The printing was + done by John Wilson + & Son, Cambridge + for + Fredrick A. Stokes + Company + New York + MDCCCICVIII + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's When hearts are trumps, by Thomas Winthrop Hall + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN HEARTS ARE TRUMPS *** + +***** This file should be named 11711-8.txt or 11711-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/7/1/11711/ + +Produced by papeters, Garrett Alley, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: When hearts are trumps + +Author: Thomas Winthrop Hall + +Release Date: March 25, 2004 [EBook #11711] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN HEARTS ARE TRUMPS *** + + + + +Produced by papeters, Garrett Alley, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>When Hearts are Trumps</h1> + + <h3>By</h3> + + <h2>Tom Hall</h2> + + <p style="text-align: center;"><i>New York</i></p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Frederick A. Stokes</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Company</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Publishers</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Frederick H. Stokes</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Company</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">Sixth Edition</p> + + <p style="text-align: center;">September 1898</p><br> + + <p><i>The verses in this volume have been selected from work that + has appeared in various periodicals during the past five years. + Especially to the editors of</i> LIFE, TRUTH, TOWN TOPICS, VOGUE, + <i>and</i> MUNSEY'S MAGAZINE <i>I have to offer my thanks for + their permission to republish the majority of them</i>.</p> + + <p><i>T.H.</i></p> + + <p>NEW YORK, February 1, 1894.</p> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Contents"></a> + + <h2>Contents.</h2><a href="#Kings"><b>Kings & Queens & + Bowers.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The-Perfect-Face"><b>The Perfect Face.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The-Moonlight_Sonata"><b>The Moonlight + Sonata.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Kiss"><b>The Kiss</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Bride"><b>The Bride.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Problem"><b>A Problem.</b></a><br> + <a href="#To_Phyllis_Reading_a_Letter"><b>To Phyllis Reading a + Letter.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Rose_from_her_hair"><b>A Rose from her + hair.</b></a><br> + <a href="#When_I_told_her_my_Love"><b>When I told her my + Love.</b></a><br> + <a href="#My_Lady_you_Blushed"><b>My Lady, you + Blushed.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_American_Slave"><b>The American Slave.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Sell_HermdashThats_Right"><b>Sell Her,—That's + Right.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Time_and_Place"><b>Time and Place.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Blood_on_the_Rose"><b>Blood on the Rose.</b></a><br> + <a href="#In_Old_Madrid"><b>In Old Madrid.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Duel"><b>The Duel.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Shroud"><b>The Shroud.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Loves_Return"><b>Love's Return.</b></a><br> + <a href="#One_Wish"><b>One Wish.</b></a><br> + <a href="#For_Me"><b>For Me.</b></a><br> + <a href="#To_a_Water-color"><b>To a Water-color.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Serenade"><b>The Serenade.</b></a><br> + <a href="#To_the_Rose_in_her_hair"><b>To the Rose in her + hair.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Her_Reverie"><b>Her Reverie.</b></a><br> + <a href="#To_Beauty"><b>To Beauty.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Dreaming_of_You"><b>Dreaming of You.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Please_Return"><b>Please Return.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Almost_Dying_of_Ennui"><b>Almost Dying of + Ennui.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Jacks_from_Jack"><b>Jacks from Jack.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Hyacinths"><b>Hyacinths.</b></a><br> + <a href="#In_The_Waltz"><b>In The Waltz.</b></a><br> + <a href="#She_Is_Mine"><b>She Is Mine.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Old_Times"><b>Old Times.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Of_My_Love"><b>Of My Love.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Farewell"><b>The Farewell.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Last_Dance"><b>The Last Dance.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Why_he_asked_for_a_Vacation"><b>Why he asked for a + Vacation.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Editors_Valentine"><b>The Editor's + Valentine.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Acting"><b>Acting.</b></a><br> + <a href="#An_Apache_Love-Song"><b>An Apache + Love-Song.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Old-fashioned_Girl"><b>The Old-fashioned + Girl.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Retrospect"><b>A Retrospect.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Hard_Hit"><b>Hard Hit.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Rejected"><b>Rejected.</b></a><br> + <br> + <a href="#Jokers"><b>Jokers</b></a><br> + <a href="#Her_Yachting_Cap"><b>Her Yachting Cap.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Theft"><b>Theft.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Before_her_Mirror"><b>Before her Mirror.</b></a><br> + <a href="#At_Old_Point_Comfort"><b>At Old Point + Comfort.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Drop_Too_Much"><b>A Drop Too Much.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Ingratitude"><b>Ingratitude.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Few_Resolutions"><b>A Few Resolutions.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Dilemma"><b>A Dilemma.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Choice_not_Necessary"><b>A Choice not + Necessary.</b></a><br> + <a href="#That_Boston_Girl"><b>That Boston Girl.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Hero"><b>The Hero.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Sweet_Summer_Girl"><b>The Sweet Summer + Girl.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Her_Fan"><b>Her Fan.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Certainty"><b>Certainty.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Caught"><b>Caught.</b></a><br> + <a href="#An_Important_Distinction"><b>An Important + Distinction.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Two_Kinds"><b>Two Kinds.</b></a><br> + <a href="#What_it_Is"><b>What it Is.</b></a><br> + <a href="#In_her_Pew"><b>In her Pew.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Suspicious_Lover_to_the_Star"><b>The Suspicious + Lover to the Star.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Slight_Surprise"><b>A Slight Surprise.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Past_vs_Present"><b>Past vs. Present.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Usual_Way"><b>The Usual Way.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Difference_in_Style"><b>A Difference in + Style.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Afraid"><b>Afraid.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Ye_Retort_Exasperating"><b>Ye Retort + Exasperating.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Rhyming_Reverie"><b>A Rhyming Reverie.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Sure_Winner"><b>A Sure Winner.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Tantalization"><b>Tantalization.</b></a><br> + <a href="#His_Usual_Fate"><b>His Usual Fate.</b></a><br> + <a href="#On_Two_Letters_from_Her"><b>On Two Letters from + Her.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Serenademdashen_Deux_Langues"><b>A Serenade—en + Deux Langues.</b></a><br> + <a href="#When_a_Girl_says_quotNoquot"><b>When a Girl says + "No."</b></a><br> + <a href="#Uncertainty"><b>Uncertainty.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Her_Peculiarities"><b>Her Peculiarities.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Reply_of_the_Observant_Youth"><b><i>The Reply of + the Observant Youth</i>.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Tying_the_Strings_of_her_Shoe"><b>Tying the Strings of + her Shoe.</b></a><br> + <a href="#When_You_are_Rejected"><b>When You are + Rejected.</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Bachelors_Views"><b>A Bachelor's Views.</b></a><br> + <a href="#My_Cigarette"><b>My Cigarette.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Discovered"><b>Discovered.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Ice_in_the_Punch"><b>The Ice in the + Punch.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Tale_of_a_Broken_Heart"><b>The Tale of a Broken + Heart.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Where_did_you_get_it"><b>Where did you get + it?</b></a><br> + <a href="#No"><b>No</b></a><br> + <a href="#A_Midsummer_Nights_Tempest"><b>A Midsummer Night's + Tempest.</b></a><br> + <a href="#The_Abused_Gallant"><b>The Abused Gallant.</b></a><br> + <a href="#After_the_Ball"><b>After the Ball.</b></a><br> + <a href="#Vanity_Fair"><b>Vanity Fair.</b></a><br> + <a href="#For_the_Long_Voyage"><b>For the Long + Voyage.</b></a><br> + <hr> + <a name="Kings"></a> + + <h2>Kings<br> + &<br> + Queens<br> + &<br> + Bowers</h2><br> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The-Perfect-Face"></a> + + <h2>The Perfect Face.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The Graces, on a summer day,</p> + + <p>Grew serious for a moment; yea,</p> + + <p>They thought in rivalry to trace</p> + + <p>The outline of a perfect face.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Each used a rosebud for a brush,</p> + + <p>And, while it glowed with sunset's blush,</p> + + <p>Each painted on the evening sky,</p> + + <p>And each a star used for the eye.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They finished. Each a curtaining cloud</p> + + <p>Drew back, and each exclaimed aloud:</p> + + <p>"Behold, we three have drawn the same,</p> + + <p>From the same model!" Ah, her name?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I know. I saw the pictures grow.</p> + + <p>I saw them falter, fade, and go.</p> + + <p>I know the model. Oft she lures</p> + + <p>My heart. The face, my sweet, was yours.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The-Moonlight_Sonata"></a> + + <h2>The Moonlight Sonata.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The notes still float upon the air,</p> + + <p class="i4">Just as they did that night.</p> + + <p>I see the old piano there,—</p> + + <p class="i4">Oh, that again I might!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Her young voice haunts my eager ear;</p> + + <p class="i4">Her hair in the candle-light</p> + + <p>Still seems an aureole,—a tear</p> + + <p class="i4">Is my spectroscope to-night.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I hear her trembling tell me "No,"</p> + + <p class="i4">And I know that she answered right</p> + + <p>But I throw a kiss to the stars, and though</p> + + <p class="i4">She be wed she will dream to-night.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Kiss"></a> + + <h2>The Kiss</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Over the green fields, over the snow,</p> + + <p>Something I send thee, something I throw.</p> + + <p>No one can guess it; no one can know.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Light as a feather, quick as the eye;</p> + + <p>Thin as a sunbeam, deep as the sky;</p> + + <p>Worthless, but something a queen could not buy.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, you have caught it, love! How do I know?</p> + + <p>Sweet, there are secrets lost ages ago.</p> + + <p>Lovers learn all of them. Smile not,—'tis so.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Bride"></a> + + <h2>The Bride.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Before her mirror, robed in spotless white,</p> + + <p class="i2">She stands and, wondering, looks at her own + face,</p> + + <p class="i2">Amazed at its new loveliness and grace.</p> + + <p>Smiling and blushing at the pretty sight,</p> + + <p>So fraught is she with innocent delight,</p> + + <p class="i2">She feels the tender thrill of his embrace</p> + + <p class="i2">Crushing her lilies into flowery lace;</p> + + <p>Then sighs and starts, even as though from fright.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then fleets before her eyes the happy past;</p> + + <p class="i2">She turns from it with petulant disdain,</p> + + <p class="i2">And tries to read the future,—but in + vain.</p> + + <p>Blank are its pages from the first to last.</p> + + <p>She hears faint music, smiles, and leaves the room</p> + + <p>Just as one rosebud more bursts into bloom.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Problem"></a> + + <h2>A Problem.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Give you a problem for your midnight toil,—</p> + + <p class="i2">One you can study till your hair is white</p> + + <p class="i2">And never solve and never guess aright,</p> + + <p>Although you burn to dregs your midnight oil?</p> + + <p>O Sage, I give one that will make you moil.</p> + + <p class="i2">Just take one weakling little woman's + heart.</p> + + <p class="i2">Prepare your patience, furbish up your art.</p> + + <p>How now? Did I not see you then recoil?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Tell me how many times it has known pain;</p> + + <p class="i2">Tell me what thing will make it feel + delight;</p> + + <p>Tell me when it is modest, when 'tis vain;</p> + + <p class="i2">Tell me when it is wrong and when 'tis + right:</p> + + <p>But tell me this, all other things above,—</p> + + <p>Can it feel, Sage, the thing that man calls "Love"?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="To_Phyllis_Reading_a_Letter"></a> + + <h2>To Phyllis Reading a Letter.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A smile is curving o'er her creamy cheek,</p> + + <p class="i2">Her bosom swells with all a lover's joy,</p> + + <p class="i2">When love receives a message that the coy</p> + + <p>Young love-god made a strong and true heart speak</p> + + <p>From far-off lands; and like a mountain-peak</p> + + <p class="i2">That loses in one avalanche its cloy</p> + + <p class="i2">Of ice and snow, so doth her breast employ</p> + + <p>Its hidden store of blushes; and they wreak</p> + + <p>Destruction, as they crush my aching heart,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Destruction, wild, relentless, and as sure</p> + + <p>As the poor Alpine hamlet's; and no art</p> + + <p class="i2">Can hide my agony, no herb can cure</p> + + <p>My wound. Her very blush says, "We must part."</p> + + <p class="i2">Why was it always my fate to endure?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Rose_from_her_hair"></a> + + <h2>A Rose from her hair.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She gave me a rose from her hair,</p> + + <p class="i2">And she hid her young heart within it.</p> + + <p>I could hardly speak from despair,</p> + + <p>Till she gave that rose from her hair,</p> + + <p>And leaned out over the stair</p> + + <p class="i2">With a blush as she stooped to pin it.</p> + + <p>She gave me a rose from her hair,</p> + + <p class="i2">And she hid her young heart within it.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="When_I_told_her_my_Love"></a> + + <h2>When I told her my Love.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When I told her my love,</p> + + <p class="i2">She was maidenly shy,</p> + + <p>And she bit at her glove.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I gave Cupid a shove;</p> + + <p class="i2">Yes, I begged him to try,</p> + + <p>When I told her my love</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What was she thinking of</p> + + <p class="i2">As she uttered that sigh</p> + + <p>And she bit at her glove?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And pray what does it prove</p> + + <p class="i2">That she stopped there to sigh,</p> + + <p>When I told her my love</p> + + <p>And she bit at her glove?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="My_Lady_you_Blushed"></a> + + <h2>My Lady, you Blushed.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My lady, you blushed.</p> + + <p class="i2">Was my love a surprise?</p> + + <p>How quickly they hushed!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A curl of yours brushed</p> + + <p class="i2">All else from my eyes.</p> + + <p>My lady, you blushed.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You say that I gushed,</p> + + <p class="i2">And they all heard my sighs?</p> + + <p>How quickly they hushed!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your roses were crushed;</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>N'importe</i> wherefores and whys.</p> + + <p>My lady, you blushed.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_American_Slave"></a> + + <h2>The American Slave.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Come, muster your pleasantest smile, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">And put on your prettiest gown.</p> + + <p>Forget about Jack for a while, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">His lordship has just come to town.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He's come here to get him a wife, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">And you have been put up for sale</p> + + <p>With a marvellous income for life, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">To balance your side of the scale.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>His lordship is feeble and old, my dear,—</p> + + <p class="i2">What odds? All the sooner he'll die.</p> + + <p>And he has a sore need of your gold, my dear:</p> + + <p class="i2">See the good you can do if you'll try.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And then a real lady you'll be, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Not only by nature but name;</p> + + <p>Mamma'll be so proud,—you can see, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">No one thinks it, as you do, a shame.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So bend your proud head. Are you faint, my dear?</p> + + <p class="i2">Keep the tears back, be buoyant and brave.</p> + + <p>Keep that pose! Now a portrait we'll paint, my dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">To be called "The American Slave."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Sell_HermdashThats_Right"></a> + + <h2>Sell Her,—That's Right.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sell her,—that's right! She is young, she is + fair;</p> + + <p>There's the light of the sun in the coils of her hair.</p> + + <p>And her soul is as white as the first flakes of snow</p> + + <p>That are falling to-night. 'T is a bargain, a "go"</p> + + <p class="i2">Sell her,—that's right!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sell her,—that's right! For a bag full of gold.</p> + + <p>Put her down in your ledger, and label her "Sold"</p> + + <p>She's only a beauty with somebody's name,</p> + + <p>And the Church for a pittance will wash out the shame.</p> + + <p class="i2">Sell her,—that's right!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Time_and_Place"></a> + + <h2>Time and Place.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Hasten on! The mad moonlight is beaming</p> + + <p class="i2">On the hatred and love 'twixt us two;</p> + + <p>And it beams on the maid who is dreaming,</p> + + <p class="i2">And the grave made for me or for you.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Time and place,—love and life in the balance,</p> + + <p class="i2">Fear and hope in the glance of your eye.</p> + + <p>Draw your blade! Forget not we are gallants</p> + + <p class="i2">Who can laugh at our fate as we die.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>On your guard! There'll be blood on the metal</p> + + <p class="i2">Ere she wakes from her innocent dreams;</p> + + <p>There's a long list of kisses to settle,</p> + + <p class="i2">And some love sighs and death sighs, it + seems.</p> + + <p>Bare your arm! Strike for life and the maiden!</p> + + <p class="i2">Take that! You are cautious, I fear</p> + + <p>Speed the blow,—'tis with happiness laden</p> + + <p class="i2">For him who does not remain here</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>That and that! I am wounded,—it's over</p> + + <p class="i2">Those kisses were destined for you;</p> + + <p>But now she is yours and you love her,</p> + + <p class="i2">Go tell her that I loved her too</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Blood_on_the_Rose"></a> + + <h2>Blood on the Rose.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Is it dew on the rose?</p> + + <p class="i2">'T is the same that I gave him</p> + + <p>Last night when I chose</p> + + <p class="i2">To warn him and save him;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>That he pinned on his breast</p> + + <p class="i2">With a smile at his danger,</p> + + <p>And a smile, not in jest,</p> + + <p class="i2">That was sweeter and stranger</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Here are footprints of foes!</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh, my heart!--I can feel</p> + + <p>It is blood on the rose</p> + + <p class="i2">And a sliver of steel.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="In_Old_Madrid"></a> + + <h2>In Old Madrid.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I strolled the streets in quest of any love,</p> + + <p class="i2">In old Madrid long centuries ago;</p> + + <p>I caught the perfume of a scented glove,</p> + + <p class="i2">I saw a sweet face in a portico.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She laughed—then paled. She leaned out; whispered, + "Fly!"</p> + + <p class="i2">And then I felt the sting of steel, the + hiss</p> + + <p>Of curses in my ear, and knew that I</p> + + <p class="i2">Had forfeited my life—and lost a + kiss.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Duel"></a> + + <h2>The Duel.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ten paces—one, two, three, and fire!</p> + + <p>Two gallants have their heart's desire.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>One of them dies, the other laughs;</p> + + <p>The seconds smile, the doctor chaffs.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A woman, smiling, dreams she's wed</p> + + <p>To—hush, to the very one that's dead.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Shroud"></a> + + <h2>The Shroud.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The snow came softly, silently, down</p> + + <p>Into the streets of the dark old town;</p> + + <p>And lo! by the wind it was swept and piled</p> + + <p>On the sleeping form of a beggar-child.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It kissed her cheek, and it filled her hair</p> + + <p>With crystals that looked like diamonds there;</p> + + <p>And she dreamed that she was a fair young bride</p> + + <p>In a pure white dress by her husband's side.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A blush crept over her pale young face,</p> + + <p>And her thin lips smiled with a girlish grace;</p> + + <p>But the old storm-king made his boast aloud</p> + + <p>That his work that night was weaving a shroud.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Loves_Return"></a> + + <h2>Love's Return.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Love has come back—ah me, the joy!—</p> + + <p class="i2">Greater than when Love began</p> + + <p>To wound my heart. The jocund boy!</p> + + <p class="i2">Love has come back a gray-haired man.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>His eyes are red with tears of woe,</p> + + <p class="i2">His cheeks are pale, and his heart is sore;</p> + + <p>But Love has come back at last, and, oh!</p> + + <p class="i2">Love will be faithful evermore.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="One_Wish"></a> + + <h2>One Wish.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My thoughts are gliding down the stream,</p> + + <p class="i2">Ah, faster than the river flows;</p> + + <p>And idly in my heart I dream</p> + + <p class="i2">Of islands where the lotus grows.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I fear not rapids, waterfall,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or whirlpool leading down to death,</p> + + <p>If love but my tired heart enthrall,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I may sip a woman's breath.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I care not what may be my fate.</p> + + <p class="i2">Roll on, mad river, to the sea;</p> + + <p>Drown all ambition, pride, and hate,—</p> + + <p class="i2">But leave one woman's love to me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="For_Me"></a> + + <h2>For Me.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I heard her song,</p> + + <p class="i2">Low in the night,</p> + + <p>From out her casement steal away,</p> + + <p class="i2">Nor thought it wrong</p> + + <p class="i2">To steal a sight</p> + + <p>Of her—and lo! she knelt to pray.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">I heard her say,</p> + + <p class="i2">"Forgive him, Lord;</p> + + <p>Such as he seems he cannot be."</p> + + <p class="i2">I turned away,</p> + + <p class="i2">Myself abhorred.</p> + + <p>She prayed—and oh! she prayed for me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="To_a_Water-color"></a> + + <h2>To a Water-color.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sweet Phyllis, maid of yesterday,</p> + + <p class="i2">Come down from out that frame,</p> + + <p>And tell me why you looked so gay—</p> + + <p class="i2">Likewise your other name.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Had bold Sir Plume confessed his love</p> + + <p class="i2">And asked you if you'd wed?</p> + + <p>And had he called you "Lovey-dove"?</p> + + <p class="i2">And how long are you dead?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Where did you get that wondrous gown,</p> + + <p class="i2">Those patches, and that hair?</p> + + <p>And how were things in London town</p> + + <p class="i2">The last time you were there?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And did you die a maid or wife,</p> + + <p class="i2">Your husband lord or knave?</p> + + <p>And how did you like this jolly life?</p> + + <p class="i2">And how do you like the grave?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Serenade"></a> + + <h2>The Serenade.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Under my casement, as I pray,</p> + + <p>My lover sings my cares away</p> + + <p>With many a half-forgotten lay.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He leans against the linden-tree,</p> + + <p>And sings old songs of Arcady</p> + + <p>That he knows well are loved by me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Half through the night the sweet strains float</p> + + <p>Like wind-blown rose-leaves, note by note,</p> + + <p>Over the great wall and the moat,</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Up to my window, till they teem</p> + + <p>Into my soul, and almost seem</p> + + <p>To be there even when I dream.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And his heart trembling beats with bliss</p> + + <p>If I but throw him one small kiss</p> + + <p>Just as I now throw this, and this</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="To_the_Rose_in_her_hair"></a> + + <h2>To the Rose in her hair.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Poor little rose, I pity you—</p> + + <p class="i2">Sweet as Oporto's wind when fruity—</p> + + <p>Tortured an evil hour or two,</p> + + <p class="i2">Just to adorn a wilful beauty.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I know her well, too well, alas!</p> + + <p class="i2">(Just watch the fairy as she dances.)</p> + + <p>She wears my heart—but let that pass;</p> + + <p class="i2">It's dead: she killed it with her glances.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your fate, poor rose, is such as mine,—</p> + + <p class="i2">To be despised when you are faded;</p> + + <p>Yet she's an angel—too divine</p> + + <p class="i2">To be by you or me upbraided.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Her_Reverie"></a> + + <h2>Her Reverie.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A lady combed her silken hair.</p> + + <p>None but a looking-glass would dare</p> + + <p class="i2">To gaze on such a scene.</p> + + <p>The blushes thronged her dimpled cheek;</p> + + <p>They coursed upon her shoulders, eke,</p> + + <p class="i2">And the white neck between.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And she was thinking then, I trow,</p> + + <p>Of one who, in a whispered vow</p> + + <p class="i2">Beneath the budding elm,</p> + + <p>Had told her they would sail their barque</p> + + <p>On lakes where pale stars pierced the dark,</p> + + <p class="i2">With Cupid at the helm.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Anon, a faint smile pursed her lips</p> + + <p>And shook her dainty finger-tips,</p> + + <p class="i2">As breezes shake the boughs;</p> + + <p>And then a quick, impetuous frown</p> + + <p>Came gathering from her ringlets down,</p> + + <p class="i2">And perched upon her brows.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, she was thinking then, I ween,</p> + + <p>Of me, poor clumsy dunce, who e'en</p> + + <p class="i2">Had torn her silken dress.</p> + + <p>I waltzed too near her at the ball;</p> + + <p>Her beauty dazed me—that was all;</p> + + <p class="i2">I felt a dizziness.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="To_Beauty"></a> + + <h2>To Beauty.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Oh, Mistress Beauty," said my sigh,</p> + + <p class="i2">"I'd laugh to scorn all other blisses,</p> + + <p>If you and I might live and die</p> + + <p class="i2">Together on such fare as kisses.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Your kirtle would not be of silk,</p> + + <p class="i2">The band around it but torn leather.</p> + + <p>I think our wine would be plain milk;</p> + + <p class="i2">I think we'd oft see stormy weather.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"But, oh, there are some things in life</p> + + <p class="i2">Worth more to men than fame or money;</p> + + <p>And one of them's a sweet young wife,</p> + + <p class="i2">So pure, so honest, and so bonnie."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Dreaming_of_You"></a> + + <h2>Dreaming of You.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My soul feels refreshed, like a rose kissed by dew,</p> + + <p>When waking I know I've been dreaming of you.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They thought I was mad. Ah, my sweet, if they knew</p> + + <p>That my malady simply was dreaming of you!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I've one wish. 'Tis to sleep all the long ages through</p> + + <p>By your side, you my bride, and I dreaming of you.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Please_Return"></a> + + <h2>Please Return.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now, all you pretty maids in town,</p> + + <p class="i2">Take heed of my sad plight.</p> + + <p>I've lost a kiss; I'll give a crown</p> + + <p class="i2">To get it back to-night.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I threw it, poet-like, I own,</p> + + <p class="i2">Up to a silvery star;</p> + + <p>I must confess I might have known</p> + + <p class="i2">I could not throw so far.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But, oh, surprise! It circled round,</p> + + <p class="i2">And sank as though 't were laden</p> + + <p>With love—when almost to the ground</p> + + <p class="i2">'T was caught by some young maiden.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And that young maid I wish to find.</p> + + <p class="i2">I've lost a kiss, alack!</p> + + <p>It is not hers. She'll not be kind</p> + + <p class="i2">Unless she give it back.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Almost_Dying_of_Ennui"></a> + + <h2>Almost Dying of Ennui.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What are the charms of the sea?</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh for an hour of the city!</p> + + <p>What are the dull waves to me?</p> + + <p class="i2">Can they say anything witty?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What do they care for my lips?</p> + + <p class="i2">Why did I come? It's a pity!</p> + + <p>Nothing but water and ships,</p> + + <p class="i2">And Jack far away in the city.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh for one ride in the park,</p> + + <p class="i2">With Jack humming bars from a ditty;</p> + + <p>Kissing me (when it grows dark).</p> + + <p class="i2">Fy! Oh—heigho, for the city!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Jacks_from_Jack"></a> + + <h2>Jacks from Jack.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Fresh, fragrant, tempting, balmy, red—</p> + + <p class="i2">What fool would send them back?</p> + + <p>Why do I wish that I were dead,</p> + + <p class="i2">With all these jacks from Jack?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Why do I bite my lips and frown,</p> + + <p class="i2">Tear buttons off my sacque,</p> + + <p>When, just returning to the town,</p> + + <p class="i2">I get these jacks from Jack?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Alas, for pleasure's giddy whirl,</p> + + <p class="i2">For summer lost, alack!</p> + + <p>He's off to see some other girl;</p> + + <p class="i2">That's why mere jacks from Jack.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Hyacinths"></a> + + <h2>Hyacinths.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Hyacinths, tenderly sweet,</p> + + <p class="i2">Is it life that you ask in your prayer?</p> + + <p>Ah, I would die at her feet,</p> + + <p class="i2">If I could be one of you there.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There on her billowy breast,</p> + + <p class="i2">So near to her innocent heart,</p> + + <p>That its beating would lull me to rest,</p> + + <p class="i2">And to dream I should never depart.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sighing are you for the stars?</p> + + <p class="i2">Look in the depths of her eyes.</p> + + <p>Is there a gem of the Czar's</p> + + <p class="i2">So much like those gems of the skies?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Is it the dew that you miss?</p> + + <p class="i2">Hyacinths, hyacinths, wait.</p> + + <p>Soon she will give you a kiss.</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh, how I envy your fate!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="In_The_Waltz"></a> + + <h2>In The Waltz.</h2><br> + + <center> + AN ECHO FROM A SEASIDE HOP. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Light as the waves foaming white on the bar,</p> + + <p>We dance to the mandolin, harp, and guitar;</p> + + <p>One, two, three, waltzing we glide round the + room,—</p> + + <p>Would you were bride, and ah, would I were groom!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>On all the seashore none fairer than you;</p> + + <p>What but adore you could any one do?</p> + + <p>Cheeks like the pink of an evening sky,</p> + + <p>Eyes that might bid a man laughingly die.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ears like the shells from the Indian sea,</p> + + <p>Teeth like white buds on a young apple-tree,</p> + + <p>Throat like a lily bent heavy with dew,</p> + + <p>Arms just as white and as lily-like too.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Lips that would tempt—ah! you'll pardon me now,</p> + + <p>Being so near them suggests, you'll allow,</p> + + <p>That the happiest thing e'er a mortal could do,</p> + + <p>Would be to be ever thus waltzing with you.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="She_Is_Mine"></a> + + <h2>She Is Mine.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There's a sparkle in her eye</p> + + <p>That no millionnaire can buy.</p> + + <p>If they think so, let them try—</p> + + <p class="i6">She's divine.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There's a blush upon her cheek</p> + + <p>Like the peach-tree's blossom, eke,</p> + + <p>Like red willows by the creek,</p> + + <p class="i6">Or like wine.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She has roses in her hair.</p> + + <p>It was I who put them there.</p> + + <p>Really, did I ever dare—</p> + + <p class="i6">Is she mine?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Or is it all a dream,—</p> + + <p>Idle poet's empty theme</p> + + <p>Put in words that make it seem</p> + + <p class="i2">Superfine?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No; for see upon her hand</p> + + <p>There's a little golden band,—</p> + + <p>Filigree work, understand,</p> + + <p class="i2">Like a vine;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And a perfect solitaire</p> + + <p>Fits upon it. The affair</p> + + <p>Cost two hundred. I don't care!</p> + + <p class="i2">She is mine.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Old_Times"></a> + + <h2>Old Times.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, good old times of belles and beaux,</p> + + <p>Of powdered wigs and wondrous hose,</p> + + <p>Of stately airs and careful grace,</p> + + <p>Look you at our degenerate race.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No more the gallant spends his time</p> + + <p>In writing of his love in rhyme;</p> + + <p>No more he lives unconscious of</p> + + <p>All earthly things save war and love.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>We modern men have toils and cares</p> + + <p>To streak our pates with whitened hairs,</p> + + <p>And have to crowd our love and all</p> + + <p>Into one short and weekly call.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Of_My_Love"></a> + + <h2>Of My Love.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">Was ever a moon</p> + + <p class="i4">In joyous June</p> + + <p>As royal, radiant, rare as she,</p> + + <p class="i4">With her smiling lips,</p> + + <p class="i4">As she lightly trips</p> + + <p>Down through the autumn woods to me?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">Never a queen</p> + + <p class="i4">On her throne, I ween,</p> + + <p>Had such a loyal slave as I.</p> + + <p class="i4">Ready to bear</p> + + <p class="i4">All her cares, I swear,</p> + + <p>Just for a fleeting kiss on the sly.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">Oh for the day</p> + + <p class="i4">We gallop away</p> + + <p>To the curate's cottage, Gretna Green;</p> + + <p class="i4">Side by side,</p> + + <p class="i4">Groom and bride,</p> + + <p>Happy twenty and sweet sixteen!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Farewell"></a> + + <h2>The Farewell.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Not going abroad? What, to-morrow,</p> + + <p class="i2">And to stay, goodness knows for how long?</p> + + <p>Really, Jack, 'twould appear that dry sorrow</p> + + <p class="i2">Had done even you, sir, a wrong.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It has? Ha, ha, ha! What a joke, sir!</p> + + <p class="i2">Is it Mabel or Jenny or Nell?</p> + + <p>I'm sure you are wrong,—hold my cloak, + sir,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Am I not an old friend? Come now, tell.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The prince of our set broken-hearted!</p> + + <p class="i2">What a joke! Who rejected you? Speak!</p> + + <p>Did you look like that, Jack, when you parted?</p> + + <p class="i2">Was that pallor of death on your cheek?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You interest me. Tell me about it;</p> + + <p class="i2">And let your old chum, sir, console.</p> + + <p>Hard hit in the heart. I don't doubt it;</p> + + <p class="i2">You were made for that sort of a + rôle.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Did you bend on your knee, like an actor,</p> + + <p class="i2">Hardly knowing just where to begin?</p> + + <p>Was dear mamma's consent the main factor?</p> + + <p class="i2">What a fool the poor girl must have been!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Who was she? What!--I?—You were jealous?</p> + + <p class="i2">O, Jack, who'd have thought such a thing?</p> + + <p>You've been certainly not over-zealous.</p> + + <p class="i2">But kiss me—and where is the ring?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Last_Dance"></a> + + <h2>The Last Dance.</h2> + + <center> + AN INCIDENT IN A WINDOW SEAT. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: Well, how many conquests? I fancy a score</p> + + <p>By the flush on your cheeks and your shoulders.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She</i>: A + bore!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: Oh, nonsense; a debutante just out of + school</p> + + <p>Who can rule with a smile what a king could not rule,</p> + + <p>From young Harry, her prince, to myself, her poor + fool!</p> + + <p>Come, tell me, did Harry propose?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She</i>: What a + goose</p> + + <p>You would think me to tell you, and then of what use</p> + + <p>Could it be?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: Well, it might give me hope, where before</p> + + <p>There was none,—quite a boon from the lips you + adore</p> + + <p>When you 're hungry for love.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She (coquetting)</i>: Or who knows but it + might—</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: Yes, it might blot from life every semblance of + light</p> + + <p>As the clouds blot the moon on a storm-troubled night.</p> + + <p>But tell me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She</i>: He did.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: And your + answer was?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She</i>: + No.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: You mean it, or are you coquetting yet?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She</i>: + Oh!</p> + + <p>I just told him I cared for another—he smiled.</p> + + <p>It was merely to him so much pleasure beguiled</p> + + <p>From a girl. Charge it up profit?—loss?—tell + me which?</p> + + <p>He thinks I am pretty, they say, but, not rich.</p> + + <p>He would love me, perhaps, for a season or two,</p> + + <p>So I told him that I loved another.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p> + <i>He</i>: And + who?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She (archly)</i>: Really, must I tell <i>you?</i></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He</i>: + No—your + finger—yes, this!</p> + + <p>A solitaire—done! and now quickly!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>She (feigning + reluctance)</i>: One!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>He + (ecstatically)</i>: Kiss.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Why_he_asked_for_a_Vacation"></a> + + <h2>Why he asked for a Vacation.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Dear Jack:</p> + + <p class="i4">It's delightfully gay here,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Old Paris seemed never so fine,—</p> + + <p>And mamma says we're going to stay here,</p> + + <p class="i2">And papa—well, papa sips his wine</p> + + <p>And says nothing. You know him of old, dear.</p> + + <p class="i2">He's only too happy to rest,—</p> + + <p>After making three millions in gold, dear.</p> + + <p class="i2">He's played out, it must be + confessed,—</p> + + <p>And I—I'm to wed an old Baron</p> + + <p class="i2">Three weeks from to-day, in great style</p> + + <p>(He's as homely and gaunt as old Charon,</p> + + <p class="i2">And they say that his past has been vile);</p> + + <p>And I've promised to cut you hereafter,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Small chance, though, we ever shall + meet,—</p> + + <p>So let's turn our old love into laughter,</p> + + <p class="i2">And face the thing through. Shall we, + sweet?</p> + + <p>Can you give me up, Jack, to this <i>roué</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">Just because we may always be poor?</p> + + <p>There's still enough time, dear, <i>et tu es</i></p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Un brave</i>,—you will come, I am + sure.</p> + + <p>Put your trunk on the swiftest Cunarder,</p> + + <p class="i2">And don't give me up, Jack, for—well,</p> + + <p>There are things in this world that are harder</p> + + <p class="i2">Than poverty. Come to me!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i37">NELL."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Editors_Valentine"></a> + + <h2>The Editor's Valentine.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The editor sat in his old arm-chair</p> + + <p>(Half his work undone he was well aware),</p> + + <p>While the flickering light in the dingy room</p> + + <p>Made the usual newspaper office gloom.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Before him news from the North and South,</p> + + <p>A long account of a foreign drouth,</p> + + <p>A lot of changes in local ads,</p> + + <p>The report of a fight between drunken cads,</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And odds and ends and smoke and talk,—</p> + + <p>A reporter drawing cartoons in chalk</p> + + <p>On the dirty wall, while others laughed,</p> + + <p>And one wretch whistled, and all of them chaffed.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But the editor leaned far back in his chair;</p> + + <p>He ran his hands through his iron-gray hair,</p> + + <p>And stole ten minutes from work to write</p> + + <p>A valentine to his wife that night.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He thought of metre, he thought of rhyme.</p> + + <p>'Twas a race between weary brains and time.</p> + + <p>He tried to write as he used to when</p> + + <p>His heart was as young as his untried pen.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He started a sonnet, but gave it up.</p> + + <p>A rondeau failed for a rhyme to "cup."</p> + + <p>And the old clock ticked his time away,</p> + + <p>For the editor's mind would go astray.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He thought of the days when they were young,</p> + + <p>And all but love to the winds was flung,</p> + + <p>He thought of the way she used to wear</p> + + <p>Her wayward tresses of golden hair.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He thought of the way she used to blush.</p> + + <p>He thought of the way he used to gush.</p> + + <p>And a smile and a tear went creeping down</p> + + <p>The face that so long had known a frown.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And this is what the editor wrote:</p> + + <p>No poem—merely a little note,</p> + + <p>Simple and manly, but tender, too;</p> + + <p>Three little words—they were, "I love you."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Acting"></a> + + <h2>Acting.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, my arms hold you fast! How can they be so bold</p> + + <p>When my hands offer nothing of silver or gold?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Can it be that I see a new light in your eye?</p> + + <p>Can it be that I heard then a womanly sigh?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, I feel such delight, and such joy, such surprise,</p> + + <p>That I hardly dare lift my own sight to your eyes</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, my arms hold you fast, and my lips touch your + cheek,</p> + + <p>And I'm crying, "Love, answer me; speak to + me—speak!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And the answer you give to my longing distress</p> + + <p>Is that word, with a blush and a kiss, that word + "Yes."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah, my arms hold you fast, and I burn with a fire</p> + + <p>That nothing but long-waiting love can inspire.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Yet I know you mean nothing—mean nothing, + because</p> + + <p>It's mere acting. Ah me, I can hear the applause.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="An_Apache_Love-Song"></a> + + <h2>An Apache Love-Song.<a name="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href= + "#Footnote_1_1"><sup>[1]</sup></a></h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">A-atana she was here.</p> + + <p class="i2">A-atana I was dear.</p> + + <p>She will never come again.</p> + + <p>Chill my heart, O wind and rain.</p> + + <p class="i2">A-atana she was here.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Hark, the wind asks "Hi-you?"</p> + + <p class="i2">And I answer "A-coo,</p> + + <p>Ustey with your bitter cold;</p> + + <p>U-ga-sha, my love of old."</p> + + <p class="i2">Still the wind asks "Hi-you?"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Hi-you?" I know not where.</p> + + <p class="i2">A-oo, I hardly care.</p> + + <p>Take it to the land of snow;</p> + + <p>Take it where the stars all go.</p> + + <p class="i2">"Hi-you?" I do not care.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">It-sau-i did it all—</p> + + <p class="i2">It-sau-i, proud and tall.</p> + + <p>Tell her I have gone to fight.</p> + + <p>Ask her if her heart is light.</p> + + <p class="i2">It-sau-i did it all.</p> + </div> + </div><a name="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1">[1]</a> + + <div class="note"> + <p><i>A-atana</i>, yesterday. <i>Hi-you</i>, where. + <i>A-coo</i>, here. <i>U's-tey</i>, come, or bring. + <i>U'-ga-sha</i>, go, or take. <i>A-oo</i>, yes. I have no + authority for the spelling of these words. I rendered them + phonetically from the pronunciation of a young Apache whom I + hired to teach me the language. Many Apache words have no + perceptible accent. A, here, has the sound of a in father.</p> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Old-fashioned_Girl"></a> + + <h2>The Old-fashioned Girl.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There's an old-fashioned girl in an old fashioned + street,</p> + + <p>Dressed in old-fashioned clothes from her head to her + feet;</p> + + <p>And she spends all her time in the old-fashioned way</p> + + <p>Of caring for poor people's children all day.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She never has been to cotillon or ball,</p> + + <p>And she knows not the styles of the Spring or the + Fall;</p> + + <p>Two hundred a year will suffice for her needs,</p> + + <p>And an old-fashioned Bible is all that she reads.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And she has an old-fashioned heart that is true</p> + + <p>To a fellow who died in an old coat of blue,</p> + + <p>With its buttons all brass,—who is waiting above</p> + + <p>For the woman who loved him with old-fashioned love.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Retrospect"></a> + + <h2>A Retrospect.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I was poor as a beggar,—she knew it,—</p> + + <p class="i2">But proud as a king through it all;</p> + + <p>Though it cost me two dollars to do it,</p> + + <p class="i2">I took little Meg to the ball.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Mere calico served her for satin;</p> + + <p class="i2">My broadcloth was made of blue jeans.</p> + + <p>Without crest or a motto in Latin,</p> + + <p class="i2">Meg's style was as grand as a queen's.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And we were in dreamland all through it,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I do not regret it at all;</p> + + <p>Though it cost me two dollars to do it,</p> + + <p class="i2">I took little Meg to the ball.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Hard_Hit"></a> + + <h2>Hard Hit.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I guess that I'm done for, old chappie!</p> + + <p class="i2">Done, whether she loves me or not,—</p> + + <p>But don't look so deuced unhappy,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Y'know it was I fired the shot.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Thanks, awfully. Give me the whiskey,—</p> + + <p class="i2">There's a horrible pain in my head;</p> + + <p>It's queer that my nerves should be frisky</p> + + <p class="i2">When my heart is as heavy as lead.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I'm worthless; I own it! She told me,</p> + + <p class="i2">That night at the Country Club ball,—</p> + + <p>Don't try, dear old fellow, to hold me,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Ah, Nellie!--it's over!--don't call!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She told me my life had been wasted,</p> + + <p class="i2">That my money had ruined my mind,</p> + + <p>That I'd not left a pleasure untasted,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Had been a disgrace to mankind!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And now she's to marry another,—</p> + + <p class="i2">A poor man, but honest and strong,</p> + + <p>Who had never a passion to smother,</p> + + <p class="i2">And never a chance to do wrong.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He loves her. They'll all think it funny</p> + + <p class="i2">I don't curse him and kill him, old fel;</p> + + <p>But she loves him. I've left him my money,—</p> + + <p>For I love her—God bless her! Farewell!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Rejected"></a> + + <h2>Rejected.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Aw, yes, bah Jove. I thought you'd answer "No."</p> + + <p class="i2">But still a fellah 's got to awsk, you see.</p> + + <p>And then there was the chance you might outgrow</p> + + <p class="i2">That way you had of making fun of me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Three years in Europe sometimes make a change</p> + + <p class="i2">In girls like you, who've always been + adored;</p> + + <p>And when you laughed, I thought it rawther strange.</p> + + <p class="i2">Aw, I beg pawdon; p'haps you feel, + aw—bored.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You don't? You think it fun—a fellah's pains</p> + + <p class="i2">At words like yours? You don't know how they + smart.</p> + + <p>I know you think I haven't any brains;</p> + + <p class="i2">But still, Miss Nellie, I've a—I've a + heart.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Jokers"></a> + + <h2>Jokers</h2> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Her_Yachting_Cap"></a> + + <h2>Her Yachting Cap.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Oh, the little yachting cap</p> + + <p class="i2">That is lying in her lap</p> + + <p>Has a sort of fascination for poor me.</p> + + <p class="i2">It is made of something white,</p> + + <p class="i2">And she wears it day and night,</p> + + <p>Through the weeks she spends each summer by the sea.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">She can make of it a fan,</p> + + <p class="i2">And, when necessary, can</p> + + <p>Hide her face behind it, if she chance to blush.</p> + + <p class="i2">It has carried caramels,</p> + + <p class="i2">Chocolate drops, and pretty shells,</p> + + <p>And I've even seen her use it as a brush.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But still it has one fault</p> + + <p class="i4">In my eyes. I'd better halt,</p> + + <p>Had I not, and ponder well what I shall say?</p> + + <p class="i4">She is darting warning glances.</p> + + <p class="i4">Well, under certain circumstances,</p> + + <p>The visor's always getting in my way.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Theft"></a> + + <h2>Theft.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The moonlight steals around the pine;</p> + + <p>Star-eyes steal radiance from thine.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Low music steals upon the ear;</p> + + <p>Can there be theft when thou art near?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I steel my heart for fear of this,—</p> + + <p>I steel my heart and steal a kiss.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I'd steal the sacramental wine</p> + + <p>If it were sweet as kiss of thine!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Before_her_Mirror"></a> + + <h2>Before her Mirror.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I pause before her mirror and reflect</p> + + <p class="i2">(That's what the mirror does, I take it, + too);</p> + + <p>Reflect how little it has known neglect,</p> + + <p class="i2">And think, "O mirror, would that I were + you."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She has no secrets that you do not know,</p> + + <p class="i2">You and yon crescent box of poudre de rose.</p> + + <p>And even these long curling irons can show</p> + + <p class="i2">Much evidence of use, yet naught disclose.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Here, when she smiles, <i>you</i> know it is her teeth</p> + + <p class="i2">She's putting to the test ere she depart</p> + + <p>For the gay revel on the lawn beneath,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or moonlight ramble that may break a heart.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Here she may blush, until she, red as wine,</p> + + <p class="i2">Knows that her triumphs have not ceased to + be.</p> + + <p>Here, when she frowns, and looks still more divine,</p> + + <p class="i2">You know, wise mirror, that she thinks of + me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="At_Old_Point_Comfort"></a> + + <h2>At Old Point Comfort.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You don't think of dresses, or ducats, or dukes;</p> + + <p>You don't care for chaperone's rigid rebukes;</p> + + <p class="i2">It's just simply grand,</p> + + <p class="i2">To lie there on the sand,</p> + + <p class="i4">Down at the beach,—</p> + + <p class="i4">If a man's within reach.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Some like the moonlight and some like the sun,</p> + + <p>Some flirt in earnest and some flirt in fun;</p> + + <p class="i2">It's worth all the rash,</p> + + <p class="i2">Reckless spending of cash,</p> + + <p class="i2">All the dresses you spoil,</p> + + <p class="i2">All the tempers you roil,</p> + + <p class="i4">Down at the beach,—</p> + + <p class="i4">If a man's within reach.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It's better than sleigh-rides, cotillons, or teas,</p> + + <p>It makes the dull Patriarch's knickerbocked knees</p> + + <p class="i2">Shake in the dance,</p> + + <p class="i2">And then one has a chance,</p> + + <p class="i2">If one's pretty and smart,</p> + + <p class="i2">With a tongue not too tart,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of presenting papaw</p> + + <p class="i2">With a new son-in-law,</p> + + <p class="i4">Down at the beach,—</p> + + <p class="i4">If a man's within reach.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Drop_Too_Much"></a> + + <h2>A Drop Too Much.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I praised her hair, I praised her lips,</p> + + <p class="i2">She looked up with surprise;</p> + + <p>I bowed to kiss her finger-tips,</p> + + <p class="i2">And then she dropped her eyes.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I said love ruled the world; that I</p> + + <p class="i2">Adored her; called her "Nan."</p> + + <p>She merely looked a little shy,</p> + + <p class="i2">And then she dropped her fan.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I took the hint, and at her feet</p> + + <p class="i2">I knelt—yes, quite absurd;</p> + + <p>But oh, my fond heart wildly beat</p> + + <p class="i2">To hear her drop a word.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I told her all: my talents few,</p> + + <p class="i2">My direful lack of pelf.</p> + + <p>(We all have erred.) She said "Adieu,"</p> + + <p class="i2">And then dropped me myself.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Ingratitude"></a> + + <h2>Ingratitude.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Last night young Cupid lost his way,</p> + + <p class="i2">And came to me to find it.</p> + + <p>He'd been a truant all the day,</p> + + <p class="i2">But didn't seem to mind it.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I put him in a hansom then</p> + + <p class="i2">For home, and feed the cabby;</p> + + <p>But my reward was what most men</p> + + <p class="i2">Would call extremely shabby.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He got his bow and arrows out,</p> + + <p class="i2">And pierced my heart, nor tarried,</p> + + <p>But drove away ere I could shout,</p> + + <p class="i2">"Great Heavens, Cupe, I'm married!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Few_Resolutions"></a> + + <h2>A Few Resolutions.</h2> + + <center> + (<i>With Reservations</i>) + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He shall never know that I love him—</p> + + <p class="i2">Until he asks if I do.</p> + + <p>And I'll feel very much above him—</p> + + <p class="i2">When he stoops to tie my shoe.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And I shall never kiss him—</p> + + <p class="i2">Until he kisses me.</p> + + <p>And I shall never miss him—</p> + + <p class="i2">Till he sails over the sea.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And I shall never wed him,</p> + + <p class="i2">Nor call myself his bride—</p> + + <p>Till Cupid and I have led him</p> + + <p class="i2">Right up to the minister's side.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Dilemma"></a> + + <h2>A Dilemma.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A letter for me,</p> + + <p class="i2">From the girl that I love!</p> + + <p>Just penned by her hand</p> + + <p>And caressed by her glove.</p> + + <p class="i2">A jewel—a gem—ah!</p> + + <p class="i2">A letter from Emma.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A letter for me,</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh, what joy, what surprise!</p> + + <p>Just kissed by her lips—</p> + + <p class="i2">At least, blest by her eyes.</p> + + <p class="i4">'T is opened—ahem, ah!</p> + + <p class="i4">A letter from Emma.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A letter for me,</p> + + <p class="i2">From my sweet little bird.</p> + + <p>Eight pages, by Jove!</p> + + <p class="i2">And I can't read a word.</p> + + <p class="i4">A precious dilemma,</p> + + <p class="i4">This letter from Emma!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Choice_not_Necessary"></a> + + <h2>A Choice not Necessary.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Here is a rose,</p> + + <p class="i2">Here is a kiss;</p> + + <p>Which do you choose?</p> + + <p class="i2">One rhymes with prose;</p> + + <p class="i2">One rhymes with bliss.</p> + + <p>Ah, you amuse.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">You hesitate,</p> + + <p class="i2">You blush, you sigh.</p> + + <p>What! are you loath?</p> + + <p class="i2">'Tis getting late;</p> + + <p class="i2">Be quick—</p> + + <p>Fool, take them both!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="That_Boston_Girl"></a> + + <h2>That Boston Girl.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Her voice is sweet,</p> + + <p class="i2">Her style is neat;</p> + + <p>She'd move the world with but a pen.</p> + + <p class="i2">Her mind is clear;</p> + + <p class="i2">Her sight, though near,</p> + + <p>Is long enough to capture men.</p> + + <p>What matters it her learning, then?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Hero"></a> + + <h2>The Hero.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He looked so handsome, proud, and brave,</p> + + <p class="i2">As he stood there, straight and tall,</p> + + <p>With his steadfast eyes, so gray, so grave,</p> + + <p class="i2">The beau of the Hunt Club ball.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah me, full many a white breast sighed</p> + + <p class="i2">For the favor of his hand,—</p> + + <p>For the love of a heart so true, so tried,</p> + + <p class="i2">For life, you understand.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He looked a hero; he was more,</p> + + <p class="i2">A martyr, too, perchance;</p> + + <p>For he went to the oldest girl on the floor,</p> + + <p class="i2">And led her out to dance.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Sweet_Summer_Girl"></a> + + <h2>The Sweet Summer Girl.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She has hair that is fluffy, straight, banged, or half + curled;</p> + + <p>Has a parasol, oft by her deft fingers twirled.</p> + + <p>She has eyes either brown or black, gray or true blue;</p> + + <p>Has a neat fitting glove and a still neater shoe.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She has cheeks that make bitter the envious rose;</p> + + <p>She has trunks upon trunks of the costliest clothes;</p> + + <p>She has jewels that shine as the stars do at night;</p> + + <p>And she dances as Ariel dances—or might.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She knows nothing much, but she's great on the smile;</p> + + <p>Her profession is love, and she flirts all the while;</p> + + <p>She's accustomed to sitting on rocks in the glen;</p> + + <p>She is also accustomed to sitting on men.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Her_Fan"></a> + + <h2>Her Fan.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A dainty thing of silk and lace,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of feathers, and of paint,</p> + + <p>Held often to her laughing face</p> + + <p class="i2">When I assume the saint.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Too dainty far to mix with these</p> + + <p class="i2">Old pipes, cigars, and books</p> + + <p>Of bachelordom,—rare life of ease,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Rare friends, rare wines, rare cooks.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Twill smell of stale tobacco smoke</p> + + <p class="i2">Ere many days I fear,</p> + + <p>And hear full many a rattling joke,</p> + + <p class="i2">And feel, perhaps, a tear.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Why is it here? Alas for me!</p> + + <p class="i2">I broke it at a ball.</p> + + <p>"Apologize—repair it" See?</p> + + <p class="i2">Five dollars gone,—that's all.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Certainty"></a> + + <h2>Certainty.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Phyllis, love may be for you,</p> + + <p class="i2">But it is not for me;</p> + + <p>For fortune comes between us two,</p> + + <p class="i2">And says it must not be.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Another fellow's fortune, too;</p> + + <p class="i2">A million, as I know.</p> + + <p>You ask me how I found it out?</p> + + <p class="i2">Your mater told me so.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Caught"></a> + + <h2>Caught.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When Phyllis turned her eyes on me</p> + + <p class="i2">I blushed and hesitated;</p> + + <p>For though on terms familiar, we</p> + + <p class="i2">Were not at all related.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I felt her mild, reproachful glance,</p> + + <p class="i2">And knew her words would rankle.</p> + + <p>To tell the truth, I had, by chance,</p> + + <p class="i2">Been looking at her ankle.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="An_Important_Distinction"></a> + + <h2>An Important Distinction.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She said, without a single sigh,</p> + + <p class="i2">And hardly hesitation,</p> + + <p>That she would be my sister, aye,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or any fond relation.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I answered cunningly, "Ah me,</p> + + <p class="i2">I've sisters by the dozen;</p> + + <p>Please make it in the next degree,</p> + + <p class="i2">For one may wed a cousin."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Two_Kinds"></a> + + <h2>Two Kinds.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, her eyes, her beautiful eyes!</p> + + <p>How they melt when she sobs or she sighs!</p> + + <p class="i2">How they droop</p> + + <p class="i4">When she blushes!</p> + + <p class="i2">How they flash</p> + + <p class="i4">When she crushes</p> + + <p>The love she's compelled to disguise!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, her i's, her beautiful i's!</p> + + <p>Who can tell them apart though he tries</p> + + <p class="i2">From her m's</p> + + <p class="i4">Or her e's,</p> + + <p class="i2">N's, or u's</p> + + <p class="i4">As you please</p> + + <p class="i2">In her letters? I offer a prize.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="What_it_Is"></a> + + <h2>What it Is.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Just a little melancholy,</p> + + <p class="i2">Just a tear or two,</p> + + <p>Just a word that's naughty,</p> + + <p class="i2">Just a spiteful "pooh!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Just an extra cocktail,</p> + + <p class="i2">Just a flower-bill due,</p> + + <p>Just another ring to take</p> + + <p class="i2">Unto my friend, the Jew.</p> + + <p>That is what it is to be</p> + + <p class="i2">Rejected, Miss, by you.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="In_her_Pew"></a> + + <h2>In her Pew.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She looked up from her pew</p> + + <p>(Why she did, Heaven knows);</p> + + <p>But I smiled; wouldn't you?</p> + + <p>'T was the right thing to do;</p> + + <p>And, pshaw, nobody knew.</p> + + <p class="i4">Then I tried hard to pose,</p> + + <p class="i4">But a look of hers froze</p> + + <p>All my blood. And I woo</p> + + <p>Her in future, old chappie, when not in her pew.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Suspicious_Lover_to_the_Star"></a> + + <h2>The Suspicious Lover to the Star.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>O silver star,</p> + + <p class="i2">That seeth far,</p> + + <p>Tell my poor heart what she is doing;</p> + + <p class="i2">And ease my pain,</p> + + <p class="i2">Who would again</p> + + <p>Be at her side, and still be wooing.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Does she regret</p> + + <p class="i2">The token set</p> + + <p>By me upon her slender finger?</p> + + <p class="i2">Or in the dance</p> + + <p class="i2">Do her eyes glance</p> + + <p>At it sometimes,—and sometimes linger?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Be, silver star,</p> + + <p class="i2">Particular,</p> + + <p>And do not be afraid of hurting.</p> + + <p class="i2">I know her well,</p> + + <p class="i2">And truth to tell,</p> + + <p>I fear my lady love is flirting.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Slight_Surprise"></a> + + <h2>A Slight Surprise.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Come, lovely Laura! strike the lyre,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I will sing a song to thee</p> + + <p>That will thy maiden heart inspire</p> + + <p class="i2">With love, and love alone for me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Why hesitate? Come, strike the lyre!</p> + + <p class="i2">Down where the chord is minor D.</p> + + <p>Of wooing thee I'll never tire.</p> + + <p class="i2">Good gracious! Why do you strike me?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Past_vs_Present"></a> + + <h2>Past vs. Present.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Through all the days I courted her</p> + + <p class="i2">My memory fondly floats,</p> + + <p>When love and I exhorted her</p> + + <p class="i2">To read, re-read my notes.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But now I love her ten times more,</p> + + <p class="i2">And my soul fairly gloats</p> + + <p>To think that my hard times are o'er,—</p> + + <p class="i2">For now she pays my notes.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Usual_Way"></a> + + <h2>The Usual Way.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Three young maidens sat in a row,</p> + + <p class="i2">With three grim dragons behind 'em;</p> + + <p>And each of these maidens had a young beau,</p> + + <p class="i2">And they all of 'em made 'em mind 'em.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>These three maidens are married now;</p> + + <p class="i2">In three brown-stone fronts you'll find + 'em.</p> + + <p>But ever since the very first row</p> + + <p class="i2">They can none of 'em make 'em mind 'em.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Difference_in_Style"></a> + + <h2>A Difference in Style.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sweet Phyllis sat upon a stile,</p> + + <p class="i2">With love and me beside her,</p> + + <p>Her red lips in a pouting smile.</p> + + <p class="i2">A pout? Her eyes belied her.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My thoughts were merry as the day,—</p> + + <p class="i2">And though the joke was shocking,—</p> + + <p>I shouted quick, and turned away:</p> + + <p class="i2">"A spider's on your stocking!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The fun, of course, I did not see,</p> + + <p class="i2">But heard an exclamation</p> + + <p>That sounded much like "Gracious me!"</p> + + <p class="i2">And guessed the consternation.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then Phyllis sat upon the style</p> + + <p class="i2">Of men who would deride her;</p> + + <p>But she no longer sits the while</p> + + <p class="i2">With love and me beside her.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Afraid"></a> + + <h2>Afraid.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Down the broad stairs,</p> + + <p class="i2">Stranger to cares,</p> + + <p>My love comes tripping and smiling and free;</p> + + <p class="i2">The snows on her breast</p> + + <p class="i2">Are a blush unconfessed.</p> + + <p>I wonder what fate has in waiting for me?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">My heart seems to throb</p> + + <p class="i2">Like a broken-paced cob;</p> + + <p>I fear I'm a coward in love, as they say.</p> + + <p class="i2">She's commencing to laugh;</p> + + <p class="i2">How the fellows will chaff.</p> + + <p>By Jove, I'm not going to ask her to-day.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Ye_Retort_Exasperating"></a> + + <h2>Ye Retort Exasperating.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Sweete maide," ye lovesicke youthe remarked,</p> + + <p class="i2">"Thou'rt fickle as my star!</p> + + <p>By far ye worste I ever sparked,</p> + + <p class="i2">You are! You really are!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Albeit yt my brains are nil,</p> + + <p class="i2">I'm gallante as can be;</p> + + <p>I'lle be to you whate'er you wille,</p> + + <p class="i2">If you'lle be more to me."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Faire youthe," ye maide replied, "I do</p> + + <p class="i2">Not barter, as a rule,</p> + + <p>But I'lle be sister untoe you,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Be you my Aprille foole."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Rhyming_Reverie"></a> + + <h2>A Rhyming Reverie.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It was a dainty lady's glove;</p> + + <p>A souvenir to rhyme with love.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It was the memory of a kiss,</p> + + <p>So called to make it rhyme with bliss.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There was a month at Mt. Desert,</p> + + <p>Synonymous and rhymes with flirt.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A pretty girl and lots of style,</p> + + <p>Which rhymes with happy for a while.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There came a rival old and bold,</p> + + <p>To make him rhyme with gold and sold.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A broken heart there had to be.</p> + + <p>Alas, the rhyme just fitted me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Sure_Winner"></a> + + <h2>A Sure Winner.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, treat me not with cold disdain,</p> + + <p class="i2">My pretty maids of fashion;</p> + + <p>Look upon the hearts you've slain,</p> + + <p class="i2">And listen to my passion.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Though I am not so peerly proud</p> + + <p class="i2">As men of higher station,</p> + + <p>So handsome that the madding crowd</p> + + <p class="i2">Collects in admiration;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And have, perhaps, too great a store</p> + + <p class="i2">Of sandy hair and freckles,</p> + + <p>I've mortgages and bonds galore,</p> + + <p class="i2">And muchly many shekels.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You yet may journey league or mile</p> + + <p class="i2">To wed, as you're aware.</p> + + <p>Come, cease your longing for mere style,</p> + + <p class="i2">And take A. MILLIONNAIRE.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Tantalization"></a> + + <h2>Tantalization.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She stands beneath the mistletoe</p> + + <p class="i2">As though she did not know it.</p> + + <p>She looks quite unconcerned, you know,</p> + + <p class="i2">And pretty, yes,—but, blow it,</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I have to turn and walk away;</p> + + <p class="i2">I'll have revenge anon.</p> + + <p>She knows quite well, alack the day,</p> + + <p class="i2">That my wife is looking on.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="His_Usual_Fate"></a> + + <h2>His Usual Fate.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>All one season</p> + + <p class="i2">Lost to reason,</p> + + <p>Breathing sea air</p> + + <p>By the beach, where</p> + + <p class="i2">Young hearts mingle,</p> + + <p>Love was playful</p> + + <p>All the day full.</p> + + <p class="i2">We were single.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now with mournful</p> + + <p>Looks and scornful</p> + + <p>Turns he too us;</p> + + <p>He is through us,</p> + + <p class="i2">Worried, harried.</p> + + <p>Love is sighing;</p> + + <p>Love is dying.</p> + + <p class="i2">We are married.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="On_Two_Letters_from_Her"></a> + + <h2>On Two Letters from Her.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I wrote her a letter. It took her quite two</p> + + <p class="i2">To answer it after she'd read it.</p> + + <p>My letter contained what perhaps even you</p> + + <p class="i2">Have written,—at least, you have said + it.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My letter contained the old tale of a heart</p> + + <p class="i2">That longed to be linked to another;</p> + + <p>And I told her to think on each separate part,</p> + + <p class="i2">And ask the advice of her mother.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She apparently did, for the very next mail</p> + + <p class="i2">Brought me a message of woe.</p> + + <p>It took her two letters; they made me turn pale;</p> + + <p class="i2">For they were the letters "N" "O".</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Serenademdashen_Deux_Langues"></a> + + <h2>A Serenade—en Deux Langues.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sous le maple, mort de night,</p> + + <p class="i2">Avec le lune beams shining through,</p> + + <p>Ecoutez-moi, mon hapless plight.</p> + + <p class="i2">Je vous aime—qui lovez-vous?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Je plink les strings de mon guitar.</p> + + <p class="i2">Il fait bien froid; J'am nervous, too.</p> + + <p>Dites-moi, dites-moi ce que vous are?</p> + + <p class="i2">Je vous aime; qui lovez-vous?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Tu es si belle, je veux vous wed.</p> + + <p class="i2">Mon père est riche—comme riche est + you?</p> + + <p>Bonne nuit, adieu; J'ai cold in head.</p> + + <p class="i2">Je vous aime—qui lovez-vous.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="When_a_Girl_says_quotNoquot"></a> + + <h2>When a Girl says "No."</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">When a girl says "Yes,"</p> + + <p class="i2">There's a quick caress,</p> + + <p class="i2">A kiss, a sigh,</p> + + <p class="i2">A melting eye.</p> + + <p class="i2">There's a vision of things</p> + + <p class="i2">That hard cash brings,—</p> + + <p class="i2">A winter at Nice</p> + + <p class="i2">With a servant apiece,</p> + + <p class="i2">A long yachting cruise,</p> + + <p class="i2">Name in "personal news,"</p> + + <p class="i2">Plenty of wine,</p> + + <p class="i2">Two hours to dine;</p> + + <p>But it's different quite when a girl says "No."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When a girl says "No,"</p> + + <p class="i2">It's so different, oh!</p> + + <p class="i2">No kiss, ten sighs,</p> + + <p class="i2">Two tear-dimmed eyes.</p> + + <p class="i2">There's a vision of things</p> + + <p class="i2">That poverty brings,—</p> + + <p class="i2">A winter complete</p> + + <p class="i2">On Uneasy Street,</p> + + <p class="i2">A temptation to rob,</p> + + <p class="i2">A twelve-dollar job,</p> + + <p class="i2">A boarding-house meal,</p> + + <p class="i2">And you pray a new deal;</p> + + <p>For it's different quite when a girl says "No."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Uncertainty"></a> + + <h2>Uncertainty.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Jenny has a laughing eye,</p> + + <p>Yet she is most wondrous shy.</p> + + <p class="i12">But why?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Jenny says she hates the men;</p> + + <p>Still she'll marry. Artful Jen!</p> + + <p class="i12">But when?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I've a rival who is rich;</p> + + <p>With one of us sweet Jen will hitch.</p> + + <p class="i12">But which?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Her_Peculiarities"></a> + + <h2>Her Peculiarities.</h2> + + <center> + <i>The Question of the Learned Man</i>. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>How doth the little blushing maid</p> + + <p class="i2">Employ each shining hour?</p> + + <p>Doth she, in sober thought arrayed,</p> + + <p class="i2">Learn knowledge that is power?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Say, doth she mend her father's socks,</p> + + <p class="i2">And cook his evening meal?</p> + + <p>And doth she make her own sweet frocks</p> + + <p class="i2">With adolescent zeal?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Reply_of_the_Observant_Youth"></a> + + <h2><i>The Reply of the Observant Youth</i>.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Not much; not much. She knows it all;</p> + + <p class="i2">She doth not need to learn.</p> + + <p>She thinks of naught but rout or ball,</p> + + <p class="i2">And which youth will be her'n.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She hustles for a diamond ring;</p> + + <p class="i2">She cares not for her dad.</p> + + <p>She does not make him anything,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Except, she makes him mad.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Tying_the_Strings_of_her_Shoe"></a> + + <h2>Tying the Strings of her Shoe.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Tying the strings of her shoe,</p> + + <p class="i2">With only the moon to see me.</p> + + <p>Could I be quick? Could you?</p> + + <p>That is the time to woo</p> + + <p>What would any one do?</p> + + <p class="i2">I tied no knot that would free me,</p> + + <p>Tying the strings of her shoe,</p> + + <p class="i2">With only the moon to see me.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="When_You_are_Rejected"></a> + + <h2>When You are Rejected.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Don't say</p> + + <p class="i2">"Good day,"</p> + + <p>Then grab the door and slam it.</p> + + <p class="i2">Be quite</p> + + <p class="i2">Polite;</p> + + <p>Go out, and then say, "---- it."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Bachelors_Views"></a> + + <h2>A Bachelor's Views.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">A pipe, a book,</p> + + <p class="i4">A cosy nook,</p> + + <p>A fire,—at least its embers;</p> + + <p class="i4">A dog, a glass;—</p> + + <p class="i4">'T is thus we pass</p> + + <p>Such hours as one remembers.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">Who'd wish to wed?</p> + + <p class="i4">Poor Cupid's dead</p> + + <p class="i2">These thousand years, I wager.</p> + + <p class="i4">The modern maid</p> + + <p class="i4">Is but a jade,</p> + + <p>Not worth the time to cage her.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">In silken gown</p> + + <p class="i4">To "take" the town</p> + + <p>Her first and last ambition.</p> + + <p class="i4">What good is she</p> + + <p class="i4">To you or me</p> + + <p>Who have but a "position"?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So let us drink</p> + + <p class="i2">To her,—but think</p> + + <p>Of him who has to keep her;</p> + + <p class="i2">And <i>sans</i> a wife</p> + + <p class="i2">Let's spend our life</p> + + <p>In bachelordom,—it's cheaper.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="My_Cigarette"></a> + + <h2>My Cigarette.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ma pauvre petite,</p> + + <p>My little sweet,</p> + + <p class="i2">Why do you cry?</p> + + <p>Why this small tear,</p> + + <p>So pure and clear,</p> + + <p class="i2">In each blue eye?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'My cigarette—</p> + + <p>I'm smoking yet?'</p> + + <p class="i2">(I'll be discreet.)</p> + + <p>I toss it, see,</p> + + <p>Away from me</p> + + <p class="i2">Into the street.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You see I do</p> + + <p>All things for you.</p> + + <p class="i2">Come, let us sup.</p> + + <p>(But oh, what joy</p> + + <p>To be that boy</p> + + <p class="i2">Who picked it up.)</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Discovered"></a> + + <h2>Discovered.</h2> + + <center> + AN EPISODE ON BEACON HILL. + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You are frowning;</p> + + <p class="i2">I don't wonder.</p> + + <p>Reading Browning;</p> + + <p class="i2">Hard as thunder!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, excuse me;</p> + + <p class="i2">You adore it?</p> + + <p>You amuse me;</p> + + <p class="i2">I abhor it.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Let me see it.</p> + + <p class="i2">Who has taught you?</p> + + <p>Now to me it—</p> + + <p class="i2">Ah, I've caught you.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It <i>must</i> be hard so</p> + + <p class="i2">(Hence the frown?)</p> + + <p>To read the bard so—</p> + + <p class="i2">Upside down.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Ice_in_the_Punch"></a> + + <h2>The Ice in the Punch.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The wail of the 'cello is soft, sweet, and low;</p> + + <p>There are strains of romance in the thrumming banjo.</p> + + <p>The violin's note—feel it float in your ear;</p> + + <p>And the harp makes one fancy that angels are near.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The voice of a young girl can reach to the heart;</p> + + <p>The song of the baritone—well, it is art.</p> + + <p>The flute and the lute in gavotte—the guitar</p> + + <p>In soft serenade—how entrancing they are!</p> + + <p class="i2">But to all the mad millions</p> + + <p class="i2">Who dance at cotillons</p> + + <p>There's naught like the clink and the clank and the + crunch</p> + + <p class="i2">Of the ice in the punch.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So here's to the recipe, ancient in Spain,</p> + + <p>And here's to the basket of cobwebbed champagne.</p> + + <p>Again to the genius who grows the sharp spice,</p> + + <p>But ten times to King Winter who furnishes ice;</p> + + <p class="i2">For to all the mad millions</p> + + <p class="i2">Who dance at cotillons</p> + + <p>There's naught like the clink and the clank and the + crunch</p> + + <p class="i2">Of the ice in the punch.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Tale_of_a_Broken_Heart"></a> + + <h2>The Tale of a Broken Heart.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She was a</p> + + <p class="i2">Beautiful,</p> + + <p class="i2">Dutiful,</p> + + <p class="i4">Grand,</p> + + <p>And rollicking queen of Bohemia,</p> + + <p class="i2">With a cheek that was</p> + + <p class="i4">Rosier,</p> + + <p class="i4">Cosier,</p> + + <p class="i8">And</p> + + <p>As soft as a lily, and creamier.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">She was always com-</p> + + <p class="i4">pelling me,</p> + + <p class="i4">Selling me,</p> + + <p class="i8">I</p> + + <p>Was her slave, but she treated me shamefully.</p> + + <p class="i2">She went on the</p> + + <p class="i4">Stage, was a</p> + + <p class="i4">Rage, as a—</p> + + <p class="i8">Why—</p> + + <p>As a page, and they spoke of her blamefully.</p> + + <p class="i2">And then in the</p> + + <p class="i4">Papers her</p> + + <p class="i4">Capers were</p> + + <p class="i8">Writ.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I love her no longer,—I swear it;</p> + + <p class="i2">But I oft spend a</p> + + <p class="i4">Dollar and</p> + + <p class="i4">Holler and</p> + + <p class="i8">Sit</p> + + <p>Through her antics. Oh, how can I bear it?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Where_did_you_get_it"></a> + + <h2>Where did you get it?</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Pray, ladies, ye of wondrous clothes,</p> + + <p>That draw admiring "ahs!" and "ohs!"</p> + + <p class="i2">And "By Joves!" as men chat,</p> + + <p>Permit me,—love the right bestows,—</p> + + <p class="i2">Where did you get that hat?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The very hat, sweet maids, I mean,</p> + + <p>So often now on Broadway seen,</p> + + <p class="i2">That is so very flat;</p> + + <p>Black as a rule, but sometimes green.</p> + + <p class="i2">Where did you get that hat?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>In shape an oyster-dish,—the crown,—</p> + + <p>A ribbon bristles up and down,</p> + + <p class="i2">Quite striking—yes, all that;</p> + + <p>The sweetest, neatest thing in town!</p> + + <p class="i2">Where <i>did</i> you get that hat?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="No"></a> + + <h2>No</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"No!" The word</p> + + <p>Fell upon my ears</p> + + <p>Like the knell of a funeral bell.</p> + + <p>I had fondly expected</p> + + <p>A whispered "yes" that</p> + + <p>Would steal into my soul</p> + + <p>Like the song of an angel</p> + + <p>From some distant Aidenn.</p> + + <p>I arose and brushed off</p> + + <p>The knees of my trousers.</p> + + <p>"Farewell," I said; "you have ruined my life."</p> + + <p>"Nonsense," she replied in the cold, cutting voice</p> + + <p>Of a woman who has been used to $100 bills</p> + + <p>And a coupé;</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"There have been thirty-seven before you, and they</p> + + <p>Are all married and happy now.</p> + + <p>You see I know all about young men."</p> + + <p>"I do not think a young, timid girl</p> + + <p>Should 'No' so much," I answered. And going out</p> + + <p>(Carefully escorted by the butler, for there was</p> + + <p>A better overcoat than mine in the hall),</p> + + <p>I left her alone and unloved,—with no one to care + for her</p> + + <p>Save a couple of dozen servants</p> + + <p>And a doting father and mother.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="A_Midsummer_Nights_Tempest"></a> + + <h2>A Midsummer Night's Tempest.</h2> + + <center> + AN EPILOGUE TO HAMLET, PERFORMED BY AMATEURS. + </center> + + <p>SCENE: <i>Elsinore—a platform before the castle (on an + improvised stage). Inky darkness. Shade of Hamlet + (solus)</i>.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Shade of Hamlet</i>: Oh, did you see him, did you see + the knave,</p> + + <p>The spindle-shanked, low-browed, and cock-eyed</p> + + <p>Clerk to an attorney, play at Hamlet,</p> + + <p>Dream-souled Hamlet, wearing an eyeglass?</p> + + <p>Oh, it was horrible.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>(<i>Enter Shade of Laertes</i>.)</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>Shade of Laertes</i>: What's the matter with + Hamlet?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>S. of H.</i>: He's not all right.</p> + + <p>No, by the fame of Shakespeare, he's all wrong.</p> + + <p>A certain convocation of talented amateurs</p> + + <p>Are e'en at him.</p> + + <p>Your amateur is your only emperor for talent;</p> + + <p>There's not a genius in the universe</p> + + <p>Who will essay as much.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>S. of L.</i>: Or, who will imitate nature so + abominably.</p> + + <p>Your head is level, Ham., and I—even I,</p> + + <p>Laertes, suffered at the hands of one</p> + + <p>Whose fiery hair, parted in the middle</p> + + <p>Like a cranberry pie, caused me to believe</p> + + <p>That some of nature's journeymen had made a man,</p> + + <p>And not made him well, he imitated nature</p> + + <p>So abominably.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>S. of H.</i>: Ha' + the fair Ophelia!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>(Enter Shade of Ophelia</i>.)</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>S. of O.</i>: Yes, my lord, thine own Ophelia,</p> + + <p>Come back to earth with heaviness o' grief</p> + + <p>Thy madness ne'er begot, for I have seen</p> + + <p>The efforts of a lisping, smirking maid,</p> + + <p>As graceful as a bean-pole, and as lean.</p> + + <p>Attempt to paint the sorrow of my heart.</p> + + <p>Oh, I would get me to a nunnery.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>S of H.</i>: Let me + Ophelyour pulse.</p> + + <p>Mad—quite mad; and all because</p> + + <p>A creature whom these mortals call a Miss,</p> + + <p>Quite properly, as her efforts are amiss,</p> + + <p>Would fain portray thee. Soft you, now!</p> + + <p>O fair Ophelia. Nymph in thine orisons</p> + + <p class="i4">Be all her sins remembered.</p> + + <p>Why let the stricken deer go weep,</p> + + <p class="i2">The untrained amateur play?</p> + + <p>All those that watch must surely weep.</p> + + <p class="i2">So wise men stay away.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>(<i>Flickering blue lights and curtain</i>.)</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="The_Abused_Gallant"></a> + + <h2>The Abused Gallant.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Two lovely maidens (woe is me!)</p> + + <p class="i2">Play tennis with my heart;</p> + + <p>And each is wondrous fair to see,</p> + + <p class="i2">And each is wondrous smart.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>In learning, money, beauty, birth,</p> + + <p class="i2">None can surpass them—none.</p> + + <p>But each receives my "court" with mirth,</p> + + <p class="i2">And tells the other one.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My "court"! The term is fitly used—</p> + + <p class="i2">A tennis court, you see.</p> + + <p>And I know well I am abused,</p> + + <p class="i2">By the "racket" they give me.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Maud strikes my heart a brutal blow,</p> + + <p class="i2">And Mabel cries out, "Fault!"</p> + + <p>And back and forth I undergo</p> + + <p class="i2">A feminine assault.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Maud asks my age. Alas! I hear</p> + + <p class="i2">Sweet Mabel say, "The goose</p> + + <p>Is very nearly forty, dear."</p> + + <p class="i2">Maud answers, "Oh, 'the deuce'!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And so my poor heart with their wit</p> + + <p class="i2">Is volleyed oft and oft,</p> + + <p>Till Mabel cries, while holding it,</p> + + <p class="i2">"This heart is far too soft."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And firing it into the net,</p> + + <p class="i2">She says, with girlish vim,</p> + + <p>"Although he isn't in our 'set,'</p> + + <p class="i2">We're making 'game' of him."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And making game they are, I swear</p> + + <p class="i2">By all the saints above,</p> + + <p>With all the terms of tennis there</p> + + <p class="i2">Save but the sweetest, "love."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="After_the_Ball"></a> + + <h2>After the Ball.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A last word in the vestibule,</p> + + <p class="i2">A touch of taper fingers,</p> + + <p>A scent of roses, sweet and cool,</p> + + <p class="i2">When she has gone still lingers.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He pauses at the carriage door</p> + + <p class="i2">To sigh a bit and ponder</p> + + <p>He thinks the matter o'er and o'er,</p> + + <p class="i2">And all his senses wander.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>With mantle thrown aside in haste,</p> + + <p class="i2">Her heart a bit uncertain,</p> + + <p>And neither time nor love to waste,</p> + + <p class="i2">She watches through the curtain.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And she has played him well, he knows</p> + + <p class="i2">Nor has he dared to stop her.</p> + + <p>She wonders when he will propose;</p> + + <p class="i2">He wonders how he'll drop her.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="Vanity_Fair"></a> + + <h2>Vanity Fair.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">Oh, whence, oh, where</p> + + <p class="i4">Is Vanity Fair?</p> + + <p>I want to be seen with the somebodies there.</p> + + <p>I've money and beauty and college-bred brains;</p> + + <p>Though my 'scutcheon's not spotless, who'll mind a few + stains?</p> + + <p>To caper I wish in the chorus of style,</p> + + <p>And wed an aristocrat after a while</p> + + <p class="i2">So please tell me truly, and please tell me + fair,</p> + + <p>Just how many miles it's from Madison Square.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">It's here, it's there,</p> + + <p class="i4">Is Vanity Fair.</p> + + <p class="i2">It's not like a labyrinth, not like a lair.</p> + + <p>It's North and it's South, and it's East and it's + West;</p> + + <p>You can see it, oh, anywhere, quite at its best.</p> + + <p>Dame Fashion is queen, Ready Money is king,</p> + + <p>You can join it, provided you don't know a thing.</p> + + <p class="i2">It's miles over here, and it's miles over + there;</p> + + <p class="i2">And it's not seven inches from Madison + Square.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr style="width: 65%;"> + <a name="For_the_Long_Voyage"></a> + + <h2>For the Long Voyage.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Were I a captain bold," I said,</p> + + <p class="i2">And gently clasped her hand,</p> + + <p>"Wouldst sail with me, by fancy led,</p> + + <p class="i2">To every foreign strand?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Wouldst help me furl my silver sail,</p> + + <p class="i2">And be my trusty crew?</p> + + <p>Wouldst stand by in the midnight gale,</p> + + <p class="i2">My pilot tried and true?"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Well, no," she answered, blushing red,</p> + + <p class="i2">"Such heavy work I hate.</p> + + <p>But,"—listen what the maiden said,—</p> + + <p class="i2">"I would be your first mate."</p> + </div> + </div><br> + <br> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>This is the end.</p> + </div><br> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The printing was</p> + + <p>done by John Wilson</p> + + <p>& Son, Cambridge</p> + + <p>for</p> + + <p>Fredrick A. Stokes</p> + + <p>Company</p> + + <p>New York</p> + + <p>MDCCCICVIII</p> + </div> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's When hearts are trumps, by Thomas Winthrop Hall + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN HEARTS ARE TRUMPS *** + +***** This file should be named 11711-h.htm or 11711-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/7/1/11711/ + +Produced by papeters, Garrett Alley, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: When hearts are trumps + +Author: Thomas Winthrop Hall + +Release Date: March 25, 2004 [EBook #11711] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN HEARTS ARE TRUMPS *** + + + + +Produced by papeters, Garrett Alley, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + +When Hearts are Trumps + +By + +Tom Hall + +[Illustration] + + +_New York_ +Frederick A. Stokes +Company +Publishers + + + + +Frederick H. Stokes +Company + +Sixth Edition +September 1898 + + + + +_The verses in this volume have been selected from work that has +appeared in various periodicals during the past five years. Especially +to the editors of_ LIFE, TRUTH, TOWN TOPICS, VOGUE, _and_ MUNSEY'S +MAGAZINE _I have to offer my thanks for their permission to republish +the majority of them_. + +_T.H._ + +NEW YORK, February 1, 1894. + + + + +Contents. + +KINGS & QUEENS & BOWERS + + THE PERFECT FACE + THE MOONLIGHT SONATA + THE KISS + THE BRIDE + A PROBLEM + TO PHYLLIS READING A LETTER + A ROSE FROM HER HAIR + WHEN I TOLD HER MY LOVE + MY LADY, YOU BLUSHED + THE AMERICAN SLAVE + SELL HER,--THAT'S RIGHT + TIME AND PLACE + BLOOD ON THE ROSE + IN OLD MADRID + THE DUEL + THE SHROUD + LOVE'S RETURN + ONE WISH + FOR ME + TO A WATER-COLOR + THE SERENADE + TO THE ROSE IN HER HAIR + HER REVERIE + TO BEAUTY + DREAMING OF YOU + PLEASE RETURN + ALMOST DYING OF ENNUI + JACKS FROM JACK + HYACINTHS + IN THE WALTZ + SHE IS MINE + OLD TIMES + OF MY LOVE + THE FAREWELL + THE LAST DANCE + WHY HE ASKED FOR A VACATION + THE EDITOR'S VALENTINE + ACTING + AN APACHE LOVE-SONG + THE OLD-FASHIONED GIRL + A RETROSPECT + HARD HIT + REJECTED + +JOKERS + + HER YACHTING CAP + THEFT + BEFORE HER MIRROR + AT OLD POINT COMFORT + A DROP TOO MUCH + INGRATITUDE + A FEW RESOLUTIONS + A DILEMMA + A CHOICE NOT NECESSARY + THAT BOSTON GIRL + THE HERO + THE SWEET SUMMER GIRL + HER FAN + CERTAINTY + CAUGHT + AN IMPORTANT DISTINCTION + TWO KINDS + WHAT IT IS + IN HER PEW + THE SUSPICIOUS LOVER TO THE STAR + A SLIGHT SURPRISE + PAST _vs_. PRESENT + THE USUAL WAY + A DIFFERENCE IN STYLE + AFRAID + YE RETORT EXASPERATING + A RHYMING REVERIE + A SURE WINNER + TANTALIZATION + HIS USUAL FATE + ON TWO LETTERS FROM HER + A SERENADE--EN DEUX LANGUES + WHEN A GIRL SAYS "NO" + UNCERTAINTY + HER PECULIARITIES + TYING THE STRINGS OF HER SHOE + WHEN YOU ARE REJECTED + A BACHELOR'S VIEWS + MY CIGARETTE + DISCOVERED + THE ICE IN THE PUNCH + THE TALE OF A BROKEN HEART + WHERE DID YOU GET IT? + NO + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S TEMPEST + THE ABUSED GALLANT + AFTER THE BALL + VANITY FAIR + FOR THE LONG VOYAGE + + + + Kings + & + Queens + & + Bowers + + + +The Perfect Face. + + The Graces, on a summer day, + Grew serious for a moment; yea, + They thought in rivalry to trace + The outline of a perfect face. + + Each used a rosebud for a brush, + And, while it glowed with sunset's blush, + Each painted on the evening sky, + And each a star used for the eye. + + They finished. Each a curtaining cloud + Drew back, and each exclaimed aloud: + "Behold, we three have drawn the same, + From the same model!" Ah, her name? + + I know. I saw the pictures grow. + I saw them falter, fade, and go. + I know the model. Oft she lures + My heart. The face, my sweet, was yours. + + + + +The Moonlight Sonata. + + The notes still float upon the air, + Just as they did that night. + I see the old piano there,-- + Oh, that again I might! + + Her young voice haunts my eager ear; + Her hair in the candle-light + Still seems an aureole,--a tear + Is my spectroscope to-night. + + I hear her trembling tell me "No," + And I know that she answered right + But I throw a kiss to the stars, and though + She be wed she will dream to-night. + + + + +The Kiss + + Over the green fields, over the snow, + Something I send thee, something I throw. + No one can guess it; no one can know. + + Light as a feather, quick as the eye; + Thin as a sunbeam, deep as the sky; + Worthless, but something a queen could not buy. + + Ah, you have caught it, love! How do I know? + Sweet, there are secrets lost ages ago. + Lovers learn all of them. Smile not,--'tis so. + + + + +The Bride. + + Before her mirror, robed in spotless white, + She stands and, wondering, looks at her own face, + Amazed at its new loveliness and grace. + Smiling and blushing at the pretty sight, + So fraught is she with innocent delight, + She feels the tender thrill of his embrace + Crushing her lilies into flowery lace; + Then sighs and starts, even as though from fright. + + Then fleets before her eyes the happy past; + She turns from it with petulant disdain, + And tries to read the future,--but in vain. + Blank are its pages from the first to last. + She hears faint music, smiles, and leaves the room + Just as one rosebud more bursts into bloom. + + + + +A Problem. + + Give you a problem for your midnight toil,-- + One you can study till your hair is white + And never solve and never guess aright, + Although you burn to dregs your midnight oil? + O Sage, I give one that will make you moil. + Just take one weakling little woman's heart. + Prepare your patience, furbish up your art. + How now? Did I not see you then recoil? + + Tell me how many times it has known pain; + Tell me what thing will make it feel delight; + Tell me when it is modest, when 'tis vain; + Tell me when it is wrong and when 'tis right: + But tell me this, all other things above,-- + Can it feel, Sage, the thing that man calls "Love"? + + + + +To Phyllis Reading a Letter. + + A smile is curving o'er her creamy cheek, + Her bosom swells with all a lover's joy, + When love receives a message that the coy + Young love-god made a strong and true heart speak + From far-off lands; and like a mountain-peak + That loses in one avalanche its cloy + Of ice and snow, so doth her breast employ + Its hidden store of blushes; and they wreak + Destruction, as they crush my aching heart,-- + Destruction, wild, relentless, and as sure + As the poor Alpine hamlet's; and no art + Can hide my agony, no herb can cure + My wound. Her very blush says, "We must part." + Why was it always my fate to endure? + + + + +A Rose from her hair. + + She gave me a rose from her hair, + And she hid her young heart within it. + I could hardly speak from despair, + Till she gave that rose from her hair, + And leaned out over the stair + With a blush as she stooped to pin it. + She gave me a rose from her hair, + And she hid her young heart within it. + + + + +When I told her my Love. + + When I told her my love, + She was maidenly shy, + And she bit at her glove. + + I gave Cupid a shove; + Yes, I begged him to try, + When I told her my love + + What was she thinking of + As she uttered that sigh + And she bit at her glove? + + And pray what does it prove + That she stopped there to sigh, + When I told her my love + And she bit at her glove? + + + + +My Lady, you Blushed. + + My lady, you blushed. + Was my love a surprise? + How quickly they hushed! + + A curl of yours brushed + All else from my eyes. + My lady, you blushed. + + You say that I gushed, + And they all heard my sighs? + How quickly they hushed! + + Your roses were crushed; + _N'importe_ wherefores and whys. + My lady, you blushed. + + + + +The American Slave. + + Come, muster your pleasantest smile, my dear, + And put on your prettiest gown. + Forget about Jack for a while, my dear, + His lordship has just come to town. + + He's come here to get him a wife, my dear, + And you have been put up for sale + With a marvellous income for life, my dear, + To balance your side of the scale. + + His lordship is feeble and old, my dear,-- + What odds? All the sooner he'll die. + And he has a sore need of your gold, my dear: + See the good you can do if you'll try. + + And then a real lady you'll be, my dear, + Not only by nature but name; + Mamma'll be so proud,--you can see, my dear, + No one thinks it, as you do, a shame. + + So bend your proud head. Are you faint, my dear? + Keep the tears back, be buoyant and brave. + Keep that pose! Now a portrait we'll paint, my dear, + To be called "The American Slave." + + + + +Sell Her,--That's Right. + + Sell her,--that's right! She is young, she is fair; + There's the light of the sun in the coils of her hair. + And her soul is as white as the first flakes of snow + That are falling to-night. 'T is a bargain, a "go" + Sell her,--that's right! + + Sell her,--that's right! For a bag full of gold. + Put her down in your ledger, and label her "Sold" + She's only a beauty with somebody's name, + And the Church for a pittance will wash out the shame. + Sell her,--that's right! + + + + +Time and Place. + + Hasten on! The mad moonlight is beaming + On the hatred and love 'twixt us two; + And it beams on the maid who is dreaming, + And the grave made for me or for you. + + Time and place,--love and life in the balance, + Fear and hope in the glance of your eye. + Draw your blade! Forget not we are gallants + Who can laugh at our fate as we die. + + On your guard! There'll be blood on the metal + Ere she wakes from her innocent dreams; + There's a long list of kisses to settle, + And some love sighs and death sighs, it seems. + Bare your arm! Strike for life and the maiden! + Take that! You are cautious, I fear + Speed the blow,--'tis with happiness laden + For him who does not remain here + + That and that! I am wounded,--it's over + Those kisses were destined for you; + But now she is yours and you love her, + Go tell her that I loved her too + + + + +Blood on the Rose. + + Is it dew on the rose? + 'T is the same that I gave him + Last night when I chose + To warn him and save him; + + That he pinned on his breast + With a smile at his danger, + And a smile, not in jest, + That was sweeter and stranger + + Here are footprints of foes! + Oh, my heart!--I can feel + It is blood on the rose + And a sliver of steel. + + + + +In Old Madrid. + + I strolled the streets in quest of any love, + In old Madrid long centuries ago; + I caught the perfume of a scented glove, + I saw a sweet face in a portico. + + She laughed--then paled. She leaned out; whispered, "Fly!" + And then I felt the sting of steel, the hiss + Of curses in my ear, and knew that I + Had forfeited my life--and lost a kiss. + + + + +The Duel. + + Ten paces--one, two, three, and fire! + Two gallants have their heart's desire. + + One of them dies, the other laughs; + The seconds smile, the doctor chaffs. + + A woman, smiling, dreams she's wed + To--hush, to the very one that's dead. + + + + +The Shroud. + + The snow came softly, silently, down + Into the streets of the dark old town; + And lo! by the wind it was swept and piled + On the sleeping form of a beggar-child. + + It kissed her cheek, and it filled her hair + With crystals that looked like diamonds there; + And she dreamed that she was a fair young bride + In a pure white dress by her husband's side. + + A blush crept over her pale young face, + And her thin lips smiled with a girlish grace; + But the old storm-king made his boast aloud + That his work that night was weaving a shroud. + + + + +Love's Return. + + Love has come back--ah me, the joy!-- + Greater than when Love began + To wound my heart. The jocund boy! + Love has come back a gray-haired man. + + His eyes are red with tears of woe, + His cheeks are pale, and his heart is sore; + But Love has come back at last, and, oh! + Love will be faithful evermore. + + + + +One Wish. + + My thoughts are gliding down the stream, + Ah, faster than the river flows; + And idly in my heart I dream + Of islands where the lotus grows. + + I fear not rapids, waterfall, + Or whirlpool leading down to death, + If love but my tired heart enthrall, + And I may sip a woman's breath. + + I care not what may be my fate. + Roll on, mad river, to the sea; + Drown all ambition, pride, and hate,-- + But leave one woman's love to me. + + + + +For Me. + + I heard her song, + Low in the night, + From out her casement steal away, + Nor thought it wrong + To steal a sight + Of her--and lo! she knelt to pray. + + I heard her say, + "Forgive him, Lord; + Such as he seems he cannot be." + I turned away, + Myself abhorred. + She prayed--and oh! she prayed for me. + + + + +To a Water-color. + + Sweet Phyllis, maid of yesterday, + Come down from out that frame, + And tell me why you looked so gay-- + Likewise your other name. + + Had bold Sir Plume confessed his love + And asked you if you'd wed? + And had he called you "Lovey-dove"? + And how long are you dead? + + Where did you get that wondrous gown, + Those patches, and that hair? + And how were things in London town + The last time you were there? + + And did you die a maid or wife, + Your husband lord or knave? + And how did you like this jolly life? + And how do you like the grave? + + + + +The Serenade. + + Under my casement, as I pray, + My lover sings my cares away + With many a half-forgotten lay. + + He leans against the linden-tree, + And sings old songs of Arcady + That he knows well are loved by me. + + Half through the night the sweet strains float + Like wind-blown rose-leaves, note by note, + Over the great wall and the moat, + + Up to my window, till they teem + Into my soul, and almost seem + To be there even when I dream. + + And his heart trembling beats with bliss + If I but throw him one small kiss + Just as I now throw this, and this + + + + +To the Rose in her hair. + + Poor little rose, I pity you-- + Sweet as Oporto's wind when fruity-- + Tortured an evil hour or two, + Just to adorn a wilful beauty. + + I know her well, too well, alas! + (Just watch the fairy as she dances.) + She wears my heart--but let that pass; + It's dead: she killed it with her glances. + + Your fate, poor rose, is such as mine,-- + To be despised when you are faded; + Yet she's an angel--too divine + To be by you or me upbraided. + + + + +Her Reverie. + + A lady combed her silken hair. + None but a looking-glass would dare + To gaze on such a scene. + The blushes thronged her dimpled cheek; + They coursed upon her shoulders, eke, + And the white neck between. + + And she was thinking then, I trow, + Of one who, in a whispered vow + Beneath the budding elm, + Had told her they would sail their barque + On lakes where pale stars pierced the dark, + With Cupid at the helm. + + Anon, a faint smile pursed her lips + And shook her dainty finger-tips, + As breezes shake the boughs; + And then a quick, impetuous frown + Came gathering from her ringlets down, + And perched upon her brows. + + Ah, she was thinking then, I ween, + Of me, poor clumsy dunce, who e'en + Had torn her silken dress. + I waltzed too near her at the ball; + Her beauty dazed me--that was all; + I felt a dizziness. + + + + +To Beauty. + + "Oh, Mistress Beauty," said my sigh, + "I'd laugh to scorn all other blisses, + If you and I might live and die + Together on such fare as kisses. + + "Your kirtle would not be of silk, + The band around it but torn leather. + I think our wine would be plain milk; + I think we'd oft see stormy weather. + + "But, oh, there are some things in life + Worth more to men than fame or money; + And one of them's a sweet young wife, + So pure, so honest, and so bonnie." + + + + +Dreaming of You. + + My soul feels refreshed, like a rose kissed by dew, + When waking I know I've been dreaming of you. + + They thought I was mad. Ah, my sweet, if they knew + That my malady simply was dreaming of you! + + I've one wish. 'Tis to sleep all the long ages through + By your side, you my bride, and I dreaming of you. + + + + +Please Return. + + Now, all you pretty maids in town, + Take heed of my sad plight. + I've lost a kiss; I'll give a crown + To get it back to-night. + + I threw it, poet-like, I own, + Up to a silvery star; + I must confess I might have known + I could not throw so far. + + But, oh, surprise! It circled round, + And sank as though 't were laden + With love--when almost to the ground + 'T was caught by some young maiden. + + And that young maid I wish to find. + I've lost a kiss, alack! + It is not hers. She'll not be kind + Unless she give it back. + + + + +Almost Dying of Ennui. + + What are the charms of the sea? + Oh for an hour of the city! + What are the dull waves to me? + Can they say anything witty? + + What do they care for my lips? + Why did I come? It's a pity! + Nothing but water and ships, + And Jack far away in the city. + + Oh for one ride in the park, + With Jack humming bars from a ditty; + Kissing me (when it grows dark). + Fy! Oh--heigho, for the city! + + + + +Jacks from Jack. + + Fresh, fragrant, tempting, balmy, red-- + What fool would send them back? + Why do I wish that I were dead, + With all these jacks from Jack? + + Why do I bite my lips and frown, + Tear buttons off my sacque, + When, just returning to the town, + I get these jacks from Jack? + + Alas, for pleasure's giddy whirl, + For summer lost, alack! + He's off to see some other girl; + That's why mere jacks from Jack. + + + + +Hyacinths. + + Hyacinths, tenderly sweet, + Is it life that you ask in your prayer? + Ah, I would die at her feet, + If I could be one of you there. + + There on her billowy breast, + So near to her innocent heart, + That its beating would lull me to rest, + And to dream I should never depart. + + Sighing are you for the stars? + Look in the depths of her eyes. + Is there a gem of the Czar's + So much like those gems of the skies? + + Is it the dew that you miss? + Hyacinths, hyacinths, wait. + Soon she will give you a kiss. + Oh, how I envy your fate! + + + + +In The Waltz. + + +AN ECHO FROM A SEASIDE HOP. + + Light as the waves foaming white on the bar, + We dance to the mandolin, harp, and guitar; + One, two, three, waltzing we glide round the room,-- + Would you were bride, and ah, would I were groom! + + On all the seashore none fairer than you; + What but adore you could any one do? + Cheeks like the pink of an evening sky, + Eyes that might bid a man laughingly die. + + Ears like the shells from the Indian sea, + Teeth like white buds on a young apple-tree, + Throat like a lily bent heavy with dew, + Arms just as white and as lily-like too. + + Lips that would tempt--ah! you'll pardon me now, + Being so near them suggests, you'll allow, + That the happiest thing e'er a mortal could do, + Would be to be ever thus waltzing with you. + + + + +She Is Mine. + + There's a sparkle in her eye + That no millionnaire can buy. + If they think so, let them try-- + She's divine. + + There's a blush upon her cheek + Like the peach-tree's blossom, eke, + Like red willows by the creek, + Or like wine. + + She has roses in her hair. + It was I who put them there. + Really, did I ever dare-- + Is she mine? + + Or is it all a dream,-- + Idle poet's empty theme + Put in words that make it seem + Superfine? + + No; for see upon her hand + There's a little golden band,-- + Filigree work, understand, + Like a vine; + + And a perfect solitaire + Fits upon it. The affair + Cost two hundred. I don't care! + She is mine. + + + + +Old Times. + + Ah, good old times of belles and beaux, + Of powdered wigs and wondrous hose, + Of stately airs and careful grace, + Look you at our degenerate race. + + No more the gallant spends his time + In writing of his love in rhyme; + No more he lives unconscious of + All earthly things save war and love. + + We modern men have toils and cares + To streak our pates with whitened hairs, + And have to crowd our love and all + Into one short and weekly call. + + + + +Of My Love. + + Was ever a moon + In joyous June + As royal, radiant, rare as she, + With her smiling lips, + As she lightly trips + Down through the autumn woods to me? + + Never a queen + On her throne, I ween, + Had such a loyal slave as I. + Ready to bear + All her cares, I swear, + Just for a fleeting kiss on the sly. + + Oh for the day + We gallop away + To the curate's cottage, Gretna Green; + Side by side, + Groom and bride, + Happy twenty and sweet sixteen! + + + + +The Farewell. + + Not going abroad? What, to-morrow, + And to stay, goodness knows for how long? + Really, Jack, 'twould appear that dry sorrow + Had done even you, sir, a wrong. + + It has? Ha, ha, ha! What a joke, sir! + Is it Mabel or Jenny or Nell? + I'm sure you are wrong,--hold my cloak, sir,-- + Am I not an old friend? Come now, tell. + + The prince of our set broken-hearted! + What a joke! Who rejected you? Speak! + Did you look like that, Jack, when you parted? + Was that pallor of death on your cheek? + + You interest me. Tell me about it; + And let your old chum, sir, console. + Hard hit in the heart. I don't doubt it; + You were made for that sort of a role. + + Did you bend on your knee, like an actor, + Hardly knowing just where to begin? + Was dear mamma's consent the main factor? + What a fool the poor girl must have been! + + Who was she? What!--I?--You were jealous? + O, Jack, who'd have thought such a thing? + You've been certainly not over-zealous. + But kiss me--and where is the ring? + + + + +The Last Dance. + +AN INCIDENT IN A WINDOW SEAT. + + _He_: Well, how many conquests? I fancy a score + By the flush on your cheeks and your shoulders. + + _She_: A bore! + + _He_: Oh, nonsense; a debutante just out of school + Who can rule with a smile what a king could not rule, + From young Harry, her prince, to myself, her poor fool! + Come, tell me, did Harry propose? + + _She_: What a goose + You would think me to tell you, and then of what use + Could it be? + + _He_: Well, it might give me hope, where before + There was none,--quite a boon from the lips you adore + When you 're hungry for love. + + _She (coquetting)_: Or who knows but it might-- + + _He_: Yes, it might blot from life every semblance of light + As the clouds blot the moon on a storm-troubled night. + But tell me. + + _She_: He did. + + _He_: And your answer was? + + _She_: No. + + _He_: You mean it, or are you coquetting yet? + + _She_: Oh! + I just told him I cared for another--he smiled. + It was merely to him so much pleasure beguiled + From a girl. Charge it up profit?--loss?--tell me which? + He thinks I am pretty, they say, but, not rich. + He would love me, perhaps, for a season or two, + So I told him that I loved another. + + _He_: And who? + + _She (archly)_: Really, must I tell _you?_ + + _He_: No--your finger--yes, this! + A solitaire--done! and now quickly! + + _She (feigning reluctance)_: One! + + _He (ecstatically)_: Kiss. + + + + +Why he asked for a Vacation. + + "Dear Jack: + It's delightfully gay here,-- + Old Paris seemed never so fine,-- + And mamma says we're going to stay here, + And papa--well, papa sips his wine + And says nothing. You know him of old, dear. + He's only too happy to rest,-- + After making three millions in gold, dear. + He's played out, it must be confessed,-- + And I--I'm to wed an old Baron + Three weeks from to-day, in great style + (He's as homely and gaunt as old Charon, + And they say that his past has been vile); + And I've promised to cut you hereafter,-- + Small chance, though, we ever shall meet,-- + So let's turn our old love into laughter, + And face the thing through. Shall we, sweet? + Can you give me up, Jack, to this _roue_, + Just because we may always be poor? + There's still enough time, dear, _et tu es_ + _Un brave_,--you will come, I am sure. + Put your trunk on the swiftest Cunarder, + And don't give me up, Jack, for--well, + There are things in this world that are harder + Than poverty. Come to me! + + NELL." + + + + +The Editor's Valentine. + + The editor sat in his old arm-chair + (Half his work undone he was well aware), + While the flickering light in the dingy room + Made the usual newspaper office gloom. + + Before him news from the North and South, + A long account of a foreign drouth, + A lot of changes in local ads, + The report of a fight between drunken cads, + + And odds and ends and smoke and talk,-- + A reporter drawing cartoons in chalk + On the dirty wall, while others laughed, + And one wretch whistled, and all of them chaffed. + + But the editor leaned far back in his chair; + He ran his hands through his iron-gray hair, + And stole ten minutes from work to write + A valentine to his wife that night. + + He thought of metre, he thought of rhyme. + 'Twas a race between weary brains and time. + He tried to write as he used to when + His heart was as young as his untried pen. + + He started a sonnet, but gave it up. + A rondeau failed for a rhyme to "cup." + And the old clock ticked his time away, + For the editor's mind would go astray. + + He thought of the days when they were young, + And all but love to the winds was flung, + He thought of the way she used to wear + Her wayward tresses of golden hair. + + He thought of the way she used to blush. + He thought of the way he used to gush. + And a smile and a tear went creeping down + The face that so long had known a frown. + + And this is what the editor wrote: + No poem--merely a little note, + Simple and manly, but tender, too; + Three little words--they were, "I love you." + + + + +Acting. + + Ah, my arms hold you fast! How can they be so bold + When my hands offer nothing of silver or gold? + + Can it be that I see a new light in your eye? + Can it be that I heard then a womanly sigh? + + Ah, I feel such delight, and such joy, such surprise, + That I hardly dare lift my own sight to your eyes + + Ah, my arms hold you fast, and my lips touch your cheek, + And I'm crying, "Love, answer me; speak to me--speak!" + + And the answer you give to my longing distress + Is that word, with a blush and a kiss, that word "Yes." + + Ah, my arms hold you fast, and I burn with a fire + That nothing but long-waiting love can inspire. + + Yet I know you mean nothing--mean nothing, because + It's mere acting. Ah me, I can hear the applause. + + + + +An Apache Love-Song.[1] + + A-atana she was here. + A-atana I was dear. + She will never come again. + Chill my heart, O wind and rain. + A-atana she was here. + + Hark, the wind asks "Hi-you?" + And I answer "A-coo, + Ustey with your bitter cold; + U-ga-sha, my love of old." + Still the wind asks "Hi-you?" + + "Hi-you?" I know not where. + A-oo, I hardly care. + Take it to the land of snow; + Take it where the stars all go. + "Hi-you?" I do not care. + + It-sau-i did it all-- + It-sau-i, proud and tall. + Tell her I have gone to fight. + Ask her if her heart is light. + It-sau-i did it all. + +[Footnote 1: _A-atana_, yesterday. _Hi-you_, where. _A-coo_, here. +_U's-tey_, come, or bring. _U'-ga-sha_, go, or take. _A-oo_, yes. I have +no authority for the spelling of these words. I rendered them +phonetically from the pronunciation of a young Apache whom I hired to +teach me the language. Many Apache words have no perceptible accent. A, +here, has the sound of a in father.] + + + + +The Old-fashioned Girl. + + There's an old-fashioned girl in an old fashioned street, + Dressed in old-fashioned clothes from her head to her feet; + And she spends all her time in the old-fashioned way + Of caring for poor people's children all day. + + She never has been to cotillon or ball, + And she knows not the styles of the Spring or the Fall; + Two hundred a year will suffice for her needs, + And an old-fashioned Bible is all that she reads. + + And she has an old-fashioned heart that is true + To a fellow who died in an old coat of blue, + With its buttons all brass,--who is waiting above + For the woman who loved him with old-fashioned love. + + + + +A Retrospect. + + I was poor as a beggar,--she knew it,-- + But proud as a king through it all; + Though it cost me two dollars to do it, + I took little Meg to the ball. + + Mere calico served her for satin; + My broadcloth was made of blue jeans. + Without crest or a motto in Latin, + Meg's style was as grand as a queen's. + + And we were in dreamland all through it, + And I do not regret it at all; + Though it cost me two dollars to do it, + I took little Meg to the ball. + + + + +Hard Hit. + + I guess that I'm done for, old chappie! + Done, whether she loves me or not,-- + But don't look so deuced unhappy,-- + Y'know it was I fired the shot. + + Thanks, awfully. Give me the whiskey,-- + There's a horrible pain in my head; + It's queer that my nerves should be frisky + When my heart is as heavy as lead. + + I'm worthless; I own it! She told me, + That night at the Country Club ball,-- + Don't try, dear old fellow, to hold me,-- + Ah, Nellie!--it's over!--don't call! + + She told me my life had been wasted, + That my money had ruined my mind, + That I'd not left a pleasure untasted,-- + Had been a disgrace to mankind! + + And now she's to marry another,-- + A poor man, but honest and strong, + Who had never a passion to smother, + And never a chance to do wrong. + + He loves her. They'll all think it funny + I don't curse him and kill him, old fel; + But she loves him. I've left him my money,-- + For I love her--God bless her! Farewell! + + + + +Rejected. + + Aw, yes, bah Jove. I thought you'd answer "No." + But still a fellah 's got to awsk, you see. + And then there was the chance you might outgrow + That way you had of making fun of me. + + Three years in Europe sometimes make a change + In girls like you, who've always been adored; + And when you laughed, I thought it rawther strange. + Aw, I beg pawdon; p'haps you feel, aw--bored. + + You don't? You think it fun--a fellah's pains + At words like yours? You don't know how they smart. + I know you think I haven't any brains; + But still, Miss Nellie, I've a--I've a heart. + + + + +Jokers + + + + +Her Yachting Cap. + + Oh, the little yachting cap + That is lying in her lap + Has a sort of fascination for poor me. + It is made of something white, + And she wears it day and night, + Through the weeks she spends each summer by the sea. + + She can make of it a fan, + And, when necessary, can + Hide her face behind it, if she chance to blush. + It has carried caramels, + Chocolate drops, and pretty shells, + And I've even seen her use it as a brush. + + But still it has one fault + In my eyes. I'd better halt, + Had I not, and ponder well what I shall say? + She is darting warning glances. + Well, under certain circumstances, + The visor's always getting in my way. + + + + +Theft. + + The moonlight steals around the pine; + Star-eyes steal radiance from thine. + + Low music steals upon the ear; + Can there be theft when thou art near? + + I steel my heart for fear of this,-- + I steel my heart and steal a kiss. + + I'd steal the sacramental wine + If it were sweet as kiss of thine! + + + + +Before her Mirror. + + I pause before her mirror and reflect + (That's what the mirror does, I take it, too); + Reflect how little it has known neglect, + And think, "O mirror, would that I were you." + + She has no secrets that you do not know, + You and yon crescent box of poudre de rose. + And even these long curling irons can show + Much evidence of use, yet naught disclose. + + Here, when she smiles, _you_ know it is her teeth + She's putting to the test ere she depart + For the gay revel on the lawn beneath, + Or moonlight ramble that may break a heart. + + Here she may blush, until she, red as wine, + Knows that her triumphs have not ceased to be. + Here, when she frowns, and looks still more divine, + You know, wise mirror, that she thinks of me. + + + + +At Old Point Comfort. + + You don't think of dresses, or ducats, or dukes; + You don't care for chaperone's rigid rebukes; + It's just simply grand, + To lie there on the sand, + Down at the beach,-- + If a man's within reach. + + Some like the moonlight and some like the sun, + Some flirt in earnest and some flirt in fun; + It's worth all the rash, + Reckless spending of cash, + All the dresses you spoil, + All the tempers you roil, + Down at the beach,-- + If a man's within reach. + + It's better than sleigh-rides, cotillons, or teas, + It makes the dull Patriarch's knickerbocked knees + Shake in the dance, + And then one has a chance, + If one's pretty and smart, + With a tongue not too tart, + Of presenting papaw + With a new son-in-law, + Down at the beach,-- + If a man's within reach. + + + + +A Drop Too Much. + + I praised her hair, I praised her lips, + She looked up with surprise; + I bowed to kiss her finger-tips, + And then she dropped her eyes. + + I said love ruled the world; that I + Adored her; called her "Nan." + She merely looked a little shy, + And then she dropped her fan. + + I took the hint, and at her feet + I knelt--yes, quite absurd; + But oh, my fond heart wildly beat + To hear her drop a word. + + I told her all: my talents few, + My direful lack of pelf. + (We all have erred.) She said "Adieu," + And then dropped me myself. + + + + +Ingratitude. + + Last night young Cupid lost his way, + And came to me to find it. + He'd been a truant all the day, + But didn't seem to mind it. + + I put him in a hansom then + For home, and feed the cabby; + But my reward was what most men + Would call extremely shabby. + + He got his bow and arrows out, + And pierced my heart, nor tarried, + But drove away ere I could shout, + "Great Heavens, Cupe, I'm married!" + + + + +A Few Resolutions. + +(_With Reservations_) + + He shall never know that I love him-- + Until he asks if I do. + And I'll feel very much above him-- + When he stoops to tie my shoe. + + And I shall never kiss him-- + Until he kisses me. + And I shall never miss him-- + Till he sails over the sea. + + And I shall never wed him, + Nor call myself his bride-- + Till Cupid and I have led him + Right up to the minister's side. + + + + +A Dilemma. + + A letter for me, + From the girl that I love! + Just penned by her hand + And caressed by her glove. + A jewel--a gem--ah! + A letter from Emma. + + A letter for me, + Oh, what joy, what surprise! + Just kissed by her lips-- + At least, blest by her eyes. + 'T is opened--ahem, ah! + A letter from Emma. + + A letter for me, + From my sweet little bird. + Eight pages, by Jove! + And I can't read a word. + A precious dilemma, + This letter from Emma! + + + + +A Choice not Necessary. + + Here is a rose, + Here is a kiss; + Which do you choose? + One rhymes with prose; + One rhymes with bliss. + Ah, you amuse. + + You hesitate, + You blush, you sigh. + What! are you loath? + 'Tis getting late; + Be quick-- + Fool, take them both! + + + + +That Boston Girl. + + Her voice is sweet, + Her style is neat; + She'd move the world with but a pen. + Her mind is clear; + Her sight, though near, + Is long enough to capture men. + What matters it her learning, then? + + + + +The Hero. + + He looked so handsome, proud, and brave, + As he stood there, straight and tall, + With his steadfast eyes, so gray, so grave, + The beau of the Hunt Club ball. + + Ah me, full many a white breast sighed + For the favor of his hand,-- + For the love of a heart so true, so tried, + For life, you understand. + + He looked a hero; he was more, + A martyr, too, perchance; + For he went to the oldest girl on the floor, + And led her out to dance. + + + + +The Sweet Summer Girl. + + She has hair that is fluffy, straight, banged, or half curled; + Has a parasol, oft by her deft fingers twirled. + She has eyes either brown or black, gray or true blue; + Has a neat fitting glove and a still neater shoe. + + She has cheeks that make bitter the envious rose; + She has trunks upon trunks of the costliest clothes; + She has jewels that shine as the stars do at night; + And she dances as Ariel dances--or might. + + She knows nothing much, but she's great on the smile; + Her profession is love, and she flirts all the while; + She's accustomed to sitting on rocks in the glen; + She is also accustomed to sitting on men. + + + + +Her Fan. + + A dainty thing of silk and lace, + Of feathers, and of paint, + Held often to her laughing face + When I assume the saint. + + Too dainty far to mix with these + Old pipes, cigars, and books + Of bachelordom,--rare life of ease,-- + Rare friends, rare wines, rare cooks. + + 'Twill smell of stale tobacco smoke + Ere many days I fear, + And hear full many a rattling joke, + And feel, perhaps, a tear. + + Why is it here? Alas for me! + I broke it at a ball. + "Apologize--repair it" See? + Five dollars gone,--that's all. + + + + +Certainty. + + Phyllis, love may be for you, + But it is not for me; + For fortune comes between us two, + And says it must not be. + + Another fellow's fortune, too; + A million, as I know. + You ask me how I found it out? + Your mater told me so. + + + + +Caught. + + When Phyllis turned her eyes on me + I blushed and hesitated; + For though on terms familiar, we + Were not at all related. + + I felt her mild, reproachful glance, + And knew her words would rankle. + To tell the truth, I had, by chance, + Been looking at her ankle. + + + + +An Important Distinction. + + She said, without a single sigh, + And hardly hesitation, + That she would be my sister, aye, + Or any fond relation. + + I answered cunningly, "Ah me, + I've sisters by the dozen; + Please make it in the next degree, + For one may wed a cousin." + + + + +Two Kinds. + + Oh, her eyes, her beautiful eyes! + How they melt when she sobs or she sighs! + How they droop + When she blushes! + How they flash + When she crushes + The love she's compelled to disguise! + + Oh, her i's, her beautiful i's! + Who can tell them apart though he tries + From her m's + Or her e's, + N's, or u's + As you please + In her letters? I offer a prize. + + + + +What it Is. + + Just a little melancholy, + Just a tear or two, + Just a word that's naughty, + Just a spiteful "pooh!" + + Just an extra cocktail, + Just a flower-bill due, + Just another ring to take + Unto my friend, the Jew. + That is what it is to be + Rejected, Miss, by you. + + + + +In her Pew. + + She looked up from her pew + (Why she did, Heaven knows); + But I smiled; wouldn't you? + 'T was the right thing to do; + And, pshaw, nobody knew. + Then I tried hard to pose, + But a look of hers froze + All my blood. And I woo + Her in future, old chappie, when not in her pew. + + + + +The Suspicious Lover to the Star. + + O silver star, + That seeth far, + Tell my poor heart what she is doing; + And ease my pain, + Who would again + Be at her side, and still be wooing. + + Does she regret + The token set + By me upon her slender finger? + Or in the dance + Do her eyes glance + At it sometimes,--and sometimes linger? + + Be, silver star, + Particular, + And do not be afraid of hurting. + I know her well, + And truth to tell, + I fear my lady love is flirting. + + + + +A Slight Surprise. + + Come, lovely Laura! strike the lyre, + And I will sing a song to thee + That will thy maiden heart inspire + With love, and love alone for me. + + Why hesitate? Come, strike the lyre! + Down where the chord is minor D. + Of wooing thee I'll never tire. + Good gracious! Why do you strike me? + + + + +Past vs. Present. + + Through all the days I courted her + My memory fondly floats, + When love and I exhorted her + To read, re-read my notes. + + But now I love her ten times more, + And my soul fairly gloats + To think that my hard times are o'er,-- + For now she pays my notes. + + + + +The Usual Way. + + Three young maidens sat in a row, + With three grim dragons behind 'em; + And each of these maidens had a young beau, + And they all of 'em made 'em mind 'em. + + These three maidens are married now; + In three brown-stone fronts you'll find 'em. + But ever since the very first row + They can none of 'em make 'em mind 'em. + + + + +A Difference in Style. + + Sweet Phyllis sat upon a stile, + With love and me beside her, + Her red lips in a pouting smile. + A pout? Her eyes belied her. + + My thoughts were merry as the day,-- + And though the joke was shocking,-- + I shouted quick, and turned away: + "A spider's on your stocking!" + + The fun, of course, I did not see, + But heard an exclamation + That sounded much like "Gracious me!" + And guessed the consternation. + + Then Phyllis sat upon the style + Of men who would deride her; + But she no longer sits the while + With love and me beside her. + + + + +Afraid. + + Down the broad stairs, + Stranger to cares, + My love comes tripping and smiling and free; + The snows on her breast + Are a blush unconfessed. + I wonder what fate has in waiting for me? + + My heart seems to throb + Like a broken-paced cob; + I fear I'm a coward in love, as they say. + She's commencing to laugh; + How the fellows will chaff. + By Jove, I'm not going to ask her to-day. + + + + +Ye Retort Exasperating. + + "Sweete maide," ye lovesicke youthe remarked, + "Thou'rt fickle as my star! + By far ye worste I ever sparked, + You are! You really are! + + Albeit yt my brains are nil, + I'm gallante as can be; + I'lle be to you whate'er you wille, + If you'lle be more to me." + + "Faire youthe," ye maide replied, "I do + Not barter, as a rule, + But I'lle be sister untoe you,-- + Be you my Aprille foole." + + + + +A Rhyming Reverie. + + It was a dainty lady's glove; + A souvenir to rhyme with love. + + It was the memory of a kiss, + So called to make it rhyme with bliss. + + There was a month at Mt. Desert, + Synonymous and rhymes with flirt. + + A pretty girl and lots of style, + Which rhymes with happy for a while. + + There came a rival old and bold, + To make him rhyme with gold and sold. + + A broken heart there had to be. + Alas, the rhyme just fitted me. + + + + +A Sure Winner. + + Oh, treat me not with cold disdain, + My pretty maids of fashion; + Look upon the hearts you've slain, + And listen to my passion. + + Though I am not so peerly proud + As men of higher station, + So handsome that the madding crowd + Collects in admiration; + + And have, perhaps, too great a store + Of sandy hair and freckles, + I've mortgages and bonds galore, + And muchly many shekels. + + You yet may journey league or mile + To wed, as you're aware. + Come, cease your longing for mere style, + And take A. MILLIONNAIRE. + + + + +Tantalization. + + She stands beneath the mistletoe + As though she did not know it. + She looks quite unconcerned, you know, + And pretty, yes,--but, blow it, + + I have to turn and walk away; + I'll have revenge anon. + She knows quite well, alack the day, + That my wife is looking on. + + + + +His Usual Fate. + + All one season + Lost to reason, + Breathing sea air + By the beach, where + Young hearts mingle, + Love was playful + All the day full. + We were single. + + Now with mournful + Looks and scornful + Turns he too us; + He is through us, + Worried, harried. + Love is sighing; + Love is dying. + We are married. + + + + +On Two Letters from Her. + + I wrote her a letter. It took her quite two + To answer it after she'd read it. + My letter contained what perhaps even you + Have written,--at least, you have said it. + + My letter contained the old tale of a heart + That longed to be linked to another; + And I told her to think on each separate part, + And ask the advice of her mother. + + She apparently did, for the very next mail + Brought me a message of woe. + It took her two letters; they made me turn pale; + For they were the letters "N" "O". + + + + +A Serenade--en Deux Langues. + + Sous le maple, mort de night, + Avec le lune beams shining through, + Ecoutez-moi, mon hapless plight. + Je vous aime--qui lovez-vous? + + Je plink les strings de mon guitar. + Il fait bien froid; J'am nervous, too. + Dites-moi, dites-moi ce que vous are? + Je vous aime; qui lovez-vous? + + Tu es si belle, je veux vous wed. + Mon pere est riche--comme riche est you? + Bonne nuit, adieu; J'ai cold in head. + Je vous aime--qui lovez-vous. + + + + +When a Girl says "No." + + When a girl says "Yes," + There's a quick caress, + A kiss, a sigh, + A melting eye. + There's a vision of things + That hard cash brings,-- + A winter at Nice + With a servant apiece, + A long yachting cruise, + Name in "personal news," + Plenty of wine, + Two hours to dine; + But it's different quite when a girl says "No." + + When a girl says "No," + It's so different, oh! + No kiss, ten sighs, + Two tear-dimmed eyes. + There's a vision of things + That poverty brings,-- + A winter complete + On Uneasy Street, + A temptation to rob, + A twelve-dollar job, + A boarding-house meal, + And you pray a new deal; + For it's different quite when a girl says "No." + + + + +Uncertainty. + + Jenny has a laughing eye, + Yet she is most wondrous shy. + But why? + + Jenny says she hates the men; + Still she'll marry. Artful Jen! + But when? + + I've a rival who is rich; + With one of us sweet Jen will hitch. + But which? + + + + +Her Peculiarities. + +_The Question of the Learned Man_. + + How doth the little blushing maid + Employ each shining hour? + Doth she, in sober thought arrayed, + Learn knowledge that is power? + + Say, doth she mend her father's socks, + And cook his evening meal? + And doth she make her own sweet frocks + With adolescent zeal? + + + + +_The Reply of the Observant Youth_. + + Not much; not much. She knows it all; + She doth not need to learn. + She thinks of naught but rout or ball, + And which youth will be her'n. + + She hustles for a diamond ring; + She cares not for her dad. + She does not make him anything,-- + Except, she makes him mad. + + + + +Tying the Strings of her Shoe. + + Tying the strings of her shoe, + With only the moon to see me. + Could I be quick? Could you? + That is the time to woo + What would any one do? + I tied no knot that would free me, + Tying the strings of her shoe, + With only the moon to see me. + + + + +When You are Rejected. + + Don't say + "Good day," + Then grab the door and slam it. + Be quite + Polite; + Go out, and then say, "---- it." + + + + +A Bachelor's Views. + + A pipe, a book, + A cosy nook, + A fire,--at least its embers; + A dog, a glass;-- + 'T is thus we pass + Such hours as one remembers. + + Who'd wish to wed? + Poor Cupid's dead + These thousand years, I wager. + The modern maid + Is but a jade, + Not worth the time to cage her. + + In silken gown + To "take" the town + Her first and last ambition. + What good is she + To you or me + Who have but a "position"? + + So let us drink + To her,--but think + Of him who has to keep her; + And _sans_ a wife + Let's spend our life + In bachelordom,--it's cheaper. + + + + +My Cigarette. + + Ma pauvre petite, + My little sweet, + Why do you cry? + Why this small tear, + So pure and clear, + In each blue eye? + + 'My cigarette-- + I'm smoking yet?' + (I'll be discreet.) + I toss it, see, + Away from me + Into the street. + + You see I do + All things for you. + Come, let us sup. + (But oh, what joy + To be that boy + Who picked it up.) + + + + +Discovered. + +AN EPISODE ON BEACON HILL. + + You are frowning; + I don't wonder. + Reading Browning; + Hard as thunder! + + Oh, excuse me; + You adore it? + You amuse me; + I abhor it. + + Let me see it. + Who has taught you? + Now to me it-- + Ah, I've caught you. + + It _must_ be hard so + (Hence the frown?) + To read the bard so-- + Upside down. + + + + +The Ice in the Punch. + + The wail of the 'cello is soft, sweet, and low; + There are strains of romance in the thrumming banjo. + The violin's note--feel it float in your ear; + And the harp makes one fancy that angels are near. + + The voice of a young girl can reach to the heart; + The song of the baritone--well, it is art. + The flute and the lute in gavotte--the guitar + In soft serenade--how entrancing they are! + But to all the mad millions + Who dance at cotillons + There's naught like the clink and the clank and the crunch + Of the ice in the punch. + + So here's to the recipe, ancient in Spain, + And here's to the basket of cobwebbed champagne. + Again to the genius who grows the sharp spice, + But ten times to King Winter who furnishes ice; + For to all the mad millions + Who dance at cotillons + There's naught like the clink and the clank and the crunch + Of the ice in the punch. + + + + +The Tale of a Broken Heart. + + She was a + Beautiful, + Dutiful, + Grand, + And rollicking queen of Bohemia, + With a cheek that was + Rosier, + Cosier, + And + As soft as a lily, and creamier. + + She was always com- + pelling me, + Selling me, + I + Was her slave, but she treated me shamefully. + She went on the + Stage, was a + Rage, as a-- + Why-- + As a page, and they spoke of her blamefully. + And then in the + Papers her + Capers were + Writ. + + I love her no longer,--I swear it; + But I oft spend a + Dollar and + Holler and + Sit + Through her antics. Oh, how can I bear it? + + + + +Where did you get it? + + Pray, ladies, ye of wondrous clothes, + That draw admiring "ahs!" and "ohs!" + And "By Joves!" as men chat, + Permit me,--love the right bestows,-- + Where did you get that hat? + + The very hat, sweet maids, I mean, + So often now on Broadway seen, + That is so very flat; + Black as a rule, but sometimes green. + Where did you get that hat? + + In shape an oyster-dish,--the crown,-- + A ribbon bristles up and down, + Quite striking--yes, all that; + The sweetest, neatest thing in town! + Where _did_ you get that hat? + + + + +No + + "No!" The word + Fell upon my ears + Like the knell of a funeral bell. + I had fondly expected + A whispered "yes" that + Would steal into my soul + Like the song of an angel + From some distant Aidenn. + I arose and brushed off + The knees of my trousers. + "Farewell," I said; "you have ruined my life." + "Nonsense," she replied in the cold, cutting voice + Of a woman who has been used to $100 bills + And a coupe; + + "There have been thirty-seven before you, and they + Are all married and happy now. + You see I know all about young men." + "I do not think a young, timid girl + Should 'No' so much," I answered. And going out + (Carefully escorted by the butler, for there was + A better overcoat than mine in the hall), + I left her alone and unloved,--with no one to care for her + Save a couple of dozen servants + And a doting father and mother. + + + + +A Midsummer Night's Tempest. + +AN EPILOGUE TO HAMLET, PERFORMED BY AMATEURS. + +SCENE: _Elsinore--a platform before the castle (on an improvised stage). +Inky darkness. Shade of Hamlet (solus)_. + + _Shade of Hamlet_: Oh, did you see him, did you see the knave, + The spindle-shanked, low-browed, and cock-eyed + Clerk to an attorney, play at Hamlet, + Dream-souled Hamlet, wearing an eyeglass? + Oh, it was horrible. + + (_Enter Shade of Laertes_.) + + _Shade of Laertes_: What's the matter with Hamlet? + + _S. of H._: He's not all right. + No, by the fame of Shakespeare, he's all wrong. + A certain convocation of talented amateurs + Are e'en at him. + Your amateur is your only emperor for talent; + There's not a genius in the universe + Who will essay as much. + + _S. of L._: Or, who will imitate nature so abominably. + Your head is level, Ham., and I--even I, + Laertes, suffered at the hands of one + Whose fiery hair, parted in the middle + Like a cranberry pie, caused me to believe + That some of nature's journeymen had made a man, + And not made him well, he imitated nature + So abominably. + + _S. of H._: Ha' the fair Ophelia! + + _(Enter Shade of Ophelia_.) + + _S. of O._: Yes, my lord, thine own Ophelia, + Come back to earth with heaviness o' grief + Thy madness ne'er begot, for I have seen + The efforts of a lisping, smirking maid, + As graceful as a bean-pole, and as lean. + Attempt to paint the sorrow of my heart. + Oh, I would get me to a nunnery. + + _S of H._: Let me Ophelyour pulse. + Mad--quite mad; and all because + A creature whom these mortals call a Miss, + Quite properly, as her efforts are amiss, + Would fain portray thee. Soft you, now! + O fair Ophelia. Nymph in thine orisons + Be all her sins remembered. + Why let the stricken deer go weep, + The untrained amateur play? + All those that watch must surely weep. + So wise men stay away. + + (_Flickering blue lights and curtain_.) + + + + +The Abused Gallant. + + Two lovely maidens (woe is me!) + Play tennis with my heart; + And each is wondrous fair to see, + And each is wondrous smart. + + In learning, money, beauty, birth, + None can surpass them--none. + But each receives my "court" with mirth, + And tells the other one. + + My "court"! The term is fitly used-- + A tennis court, you see. + And I know well I am abused, + By the "racket" they give me. + + Maud strikes my heart a brutal blow, + And Mabel cries out, "Fault!" + And back and forth I undergo + A feminine assault. + + Maud asks my age. Alas! I hear + Sweet Mabel say, "The goose + Is very nearly forty, dear." + Maud answers, "Oh, 'the deuce'!" + + And so my poor heart with their wit + Is volleyed oft and oft, + Till Mabel cries, while holding it, + "This heart is far too soft." + + And firing it into the net, + She says, with girlish vim, + "Although he isn't in our 'set,' + We're making 'game' of him." + + And making game they are, I swear + By all the saints above, + With all the terms of tennis there + Save but the sweetest, "love." + + + + +After the Ball. + + A last word in the vestibule, + A touch of taper fingers, + A scent of roses, sweet and cool, + When she has gone still lingers. + + He pauses at the carriage door + To sigh a bit and ponder + He thinks the matter o'er and o'er, + And all his senses wander. + + With mantle thrown aside in haste, + Her heart a bit uncertain, + And neither time nor love to waste, + She watches through the curtain. + + And she has played him well, he knows + Nor has he dared to stop her. + She wonders when he will propose; + He wonders how he'll drop her. + + + + +Vanity Fair. + + Oh, whence, oh, where + Is Vanity Fair? + I want to be seen with the somebodies there. + I've money and beauty and college-bred brains; + Though my 'scutcheon's not spotless, who'll mind a few stains? + To caper I wish in the chorus of style, + And wed an aristocrat after a while + So please tell me truly, and please tell me fair, + Just how many miles it's from Madison Square. + + It's here, it's there, + Is Vanity Fair. + It's not like a labyrinth, not like a lair. + It's North and it's South, and it's East and it's West; + You can see it, oh, anywhere, quite at its best. + Dame Fashion is queen, Ready Money is king, + You can join it, provided you don't know a thing. + It's miles over here, and it's miles over there; + And it's not seven inches from Madison Square. + + + + +For the Long Voyage. + + "Were I a captain bold," I said, + And gently clasped her hand, + "Wouldst sail with me, by fancy led, + To every foreign strand? + + "Wouldst help me furl my silver sail, + And be my trusty crew? + Wouldst stand by in the midnight gale, + My pilot tried and true?" + + "Well, no," she answered, blushing red, + "Such heavy work I hate. + But,"--listen what the maiden said,-- + "I would be your first mate." + + + + + This is the end. + + The printing was + done by John Wilson + & Son, Cambridge + for + Fredrick A. Stokes + Company + New York + MDCCCICVIII + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's When hearts are trumps, by Thomas Winthrop Hall + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN HEARTS ARE TRUMPS *** + +***** This file should be named 11711.txt or 11711.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/7/1/11711/ + +Produced by papeters, Garrett Alley, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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