GOOD-NIGHT And many a fair one is sighing, And Beauty counts over her numbers And I, while my cab in the shower Is waiting, the last at the door, Am looking all round for the flower That fell from your wreath on the floor. I'll keep it if but to remind me, Though wither'd and faded its hue Wherever next season may find me Of England - of Almack's - and you! There are tones that will haunt us, tho' lonely Our path be o'er mountain, or sea; There are looks that will part from us only When memory ceases to be; There are hopes which our burthen can lighten, Tho' toilsome and steep be the way; GOOD-NIGHT reams that, like moonlight, can brighten h a light that is clearer than day. are names that we cherish, tho' nameless, aye on the lip they may be; are hearts, tho' fetter'd, are tameless, I thoughts unexpress'd, but still free! ome are too grave for a rover, I some for a husband too light, - EDWARD FITZGERALD THE MODERN BELLE SHE sits in a fashionable parlor, She winks and giggles and simpers, And simpers and giggles and winks; And though she talks but little, "T is a good deal more than she thinks. She lies abed in the morning Till nearly the hour of noon, Then comes down snapping and snarling Because she was called so soon; Her hair is still in papers, Her cheeks still fresh with paint, Remains of her last night's blushes, Before she intended to faint. She dotes upon men unshaven, She's eloquent over mustaches, THE MODERN BELLE She talks of Italian music, And falls in love with the moon; And, if a mouse were to meet her, She would sink away in a swoon. Her feet are so very little, Her hands are so very white, Her jewels so very heavy, And her head so very light; Her body is mostly of cotton, She falls in love with a fellow She's got a fool for a husband, He's got a fool for a wife! ANONYMOUS |