Part 32 (2/2)

He's gone! There's the slam of his cab door, there's the clatter of hoofs and the wheels; And while he the light toe is tripping, in this armchair I'll tilt up my heels.

He's gone, and for what? For a tremor from a waist like a teetotum spun; For a rosebud that's crumpled by many before it is gathered by one.

Is there naught in the halo of youth but the glow of a pa.s.sionate race--'Midst the cheers and applause of a crowd--to the goal of a beautiful face?

A race that is not to the swift, a prize that no merits enforce, But is won by some faineant youth, who shall simply walk over the course?

Poor boy! shall I shock his conceit? When he talks of her cheek's loveliness, Shall I say 'twas the air of the room, and was due to carbonic excess?

That when waltzing she drooped on his breast, and the veins of her eyelids grew dim, 'Twas oxygen's absence she felt, but never the presence of him?

Shall I tell him first love is a fraud, a weakling that's strangled in birth, Recalled with perfunctory tears, but lost in unsanctified mirth?

Or shall I go bid him believe in all womankind's charm, and forget In the light ringing laugh of the world the rattlesnake's gay castanet?

Shall I tear out a leaf from my heart, from that book that forever is shut On the past? Shall I speak of my first love--Augusta--my Lalage?

But I forget. Was it really Augusta? No. 'Twas Lucy! No. Mary!

No. Di!

Never mind! they were all first and faithless, and yet--I've forgotten just why.

No, no! Let him dream on and ever. Alas! he will waken too soon; And it doesn't look well for October to always be preaching at June.

Poor boy! All his fond foolish trophies pinned yonder--a bow from HER hair, A few billets-doux, invitations, and--what's this? My name, I declare!

Humph! ”You'll come, for I've got you a prize, with beauty and money no end: You know her, I think; 'twas on dit she once was engaged to your friend; But she says that's all over.” Ah, is it? Sweet Ethel! incomparable maid!

Or--what if the thing were a trick?--this letter so freely displayed!--

My opportune presence! No! nonsense! Will n.o.body answer the bell?

Call a cab! Half past ten. Not too late yet. Oh, Ethel! Why don't you go? Well?

”Master said you would wait”-- Hang your master! ”Have I ever a message to send?”

Yes, tell him I've gone to the German to dance with the friend of his friend.

WHAT THE WOLF REALLY SAID TO LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD

Wondering maiden, so puzzled and fair, Why dost thou murmur and ponder and stare?

”Why are my eyelids so open and wild?”

Only the better to see with, my child!

Only the better and clearer to view Cheeks that are rosy and eyes that are blue.

Dost thou still wonder, and ask why these arms Fill thy soft bosom with tender alarms, Swaying so wickedly? Are they misplaced Clasping or s.h.i.+elding some delicate waist?

Hands whose coa.r.s.e sinews may fill you with fear Only the better protect you, my dear!

Little Red Riding-Hood, when in the street, Why do I press your small hand when we meet?

Why, when you timidly offered your cheek, Why did I sigh, and why didn't I speak?

Why, well: you see--if the truth must appear-- I'm not your grandmother, Riding-Hood, dear!

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