University of Virginia Library

LINES

Who would believe it e'er could be
That one, erewhile so dear to me,
Who, when she found the first grey hair
Kist it, and sigh'd to find it there;
Who led me thro' that shady park
And lookt what beech had smoothest bark;
Then wrote our names and wisht to write
A little higher if she might;
And then, “O nonsense! let me go!
You tumble me and teaze me so!
If I were sure I should not fall . .
But . . how can I be sure at all?”
Who then found out how wrong it was
(Where there were seats) to sit on grass;
Then suddenly, half-rising, told
How liable she was to cold,
And seem'd extremely discontented
Until such peril were prevented . .
That she who loved that quiet park,
Those glades, nor cared how lone, how dark,
And loved me too a little bit
And chided me for doubting it . .
Now, if perchance she sees me pass,
Raises her chin and then her glass,
Stares at me, bows, looks gracious-grand,
Drives on and half uncurls her hand!
We both were younger: I am yet
What tenderer bosoms scarce forget;
She shines, with coronetted pannel
And husband mummified in flannel,
Among the haridans and hacks
Who spread their tanneries at Almack's.