Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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“DOLL.” |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
518
“DOLL.”
O we all are enamoured of dear little “Doll”
With her merry blue eyes and long lashes,
And flashes
Of humour, if sometimes she screams like poor Poll,
And is fond of a babel
And upsets a table
Or temper, and does not think twice—
But she's nice;
Though you never saw tantrums like hers out of fable
And not without vice;
She is always unstable,
But then she's a woman and never was ice.
With her merry blue eyes and long lashes,
And flashes
Of humour, if sometimes she screams like poor Poll,
And is fond of a babel
And upsets a table
Or temper, and does not think twice—
But she's nice;
Though you never saw tantrums like hers out of fable
And not without vice;
She is always unstable,
But then she's a woman and never was ice.
Tiny “Doll” will go souse into any mad mess,
For she lives in a racket and flutter
And utter
Contempt of such trifles as customs and dress;
And her course is not humble
Like sinners, who stumble
And bother with penitent pains;
And her stains
Come more kindly to her, from too many a tumble
In pestilent drains,
At which good people grumble
And leave—till the next dirty scandal complains.
For she lives in a racket and flutter
And utter
Contempt of such trifles as customs and dress;
And her course is not humble
Like sinners, who stumble
And bother with penitent pains;
And her stains
Come more kindly to her, from too many a tumble
In pestilent drains,
At which good people grumble
And leave—till the next dirty scandal complains.
Daring “Doll” is a brick in the moment of need,
She is Irish and fond of a shindy
And windy
Herself, in her ways and her Donnibrooke creed;
In the stormiest weather,
And light as a feather
She flies when the stones are about—
She steps out,
And her tongue does away with propriety's tether;
She despises a clout
Of rude stick or rough leather,
Like a petrel she rides on the hubbub and rout.
She is Irish and fond of a shindy
And windy
Herself, in her ways and her Donnibrooke creed;
In the stormiest weather,
And light as a feather
She flies when the stones are about—
She steps out,
And her tongue does away with propriety's tether;
She despises a clout
Of rude stick or rough leather,
Like a petrel she rides on the hubbub and rout.
519
Tricksy “Doll” is a darling, a great human love
On her pale pretty cheeks paints its flushes
And rushes
To eye and red lip, aud enwraps like a glove—
Yes, as warmly and tightly,
Whether wrongly or rightly,
When you once touch her sensitive part—
She has heart;
And that love in her sordid career burns more brightly
Than candles of art,
Like a star that beams nightly
On litter and leavings of mud and of mart.
On her pale pretty cheeks paints its flushes
And rushes
To eye and red lip, aud enwraps like a glove—
Yes, as warmly and tightly,
Whether wrongly or rightly,
When you once touch her sensitive part—
She has heart;
And that love in her sordid career burns more brightly
Than candles of art,
Like a star that beams nightly
On litter and leavings of mud and of mart.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |