 | Short poems for short people |  |
A “BOY” OF THE PERIOD.
I've met the young creature you mean, Tom;
She 's truly quite pretty; but then
We men of fifteen should look higher
Than girls that have scarcely turned ten.
She 's truly quite pretty; but then
We men of fifteen should look higher
Than girls that have scarcely turned ten.
By Jove, it 's surprising how docile
To female attractions you are;
No, somehow life has n't yet made you
Blasé—will you try a cigar?
To female attractions you are;
No, somehow life has n't yet made you
Blasé—will you try a cigar?
For my part, I seem to have grown, Tom,
Quite callous to Cupid's worst stings;
It may be my liver is ruined
With parties and suppers and things.
Quite callous to Cupid's worst stings;
It may be my liver is ruined
With parties and suppers and things.
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Or yet it may be that I'm reaching
The sober, grave epoch in life
When, wearied with folly and pleasure,
Men long for the joys of a wife.
The sober, grave epoch in life
When, wearied with folly and pleasure,
Men long for the joys of a wife.
And apropos, Tom; that reminds me:—
Kate Jones is a sweet little dear,
With charmingly kittenish manners
And twenty-five thousand a year.
Kate Jones is a sweet little dear,
With charmingly kittenish manners
And twenty-five thousand a year.
We 've danced lots of germans together
And set people gossiping, too.
My chances look strong in that quarter;
I'll make the attempt—would n't you?
And set people gossiping, too.
My chances look strong in that quarter;
I'll make the attempt—would n't you?
Yes, marriage is certainly better
Than what is called bachelor-ease.
Is that brandy, Tom, on the table?
Just pour me a glass, if you please.
Than what is called bachelor-ease.
Is that brandy, Tom, on the table?
Just pour me a glass, if you please.
| Short poems for short people | |