So how can a bachelor be at his ease
With such variant emotions at afternoon teas?
Behind sheltering palms, safe from gossips' sharp gaze,
Is acted in mime one of life's dearest plays,--
Sweet Bessie's brown eyes raised beseechingly up,
Her lips just released from the kiss of her cup,
And Fred, I much fear,
From small sounds that I hear,
Is as bold as the rim of her cup,--and as near,--
And how can a bachelor be at his ease
With such sights and such sounds at our afternoon teas?
Shrewd maters watch Phyllis and Bessie and Fred,--
Each smile and each look and each toss of the head,--
And wonder and ponder and figure and scheme,
While fortune and fashion 'gainst love tip the beam.
For Bessie's dark locks
And Phyllis's smart frocks
Are but snares to entrap the society fox.
Pray, how can a bachelor be at his ease
With such artful devices at afternoon teas?
JOHN CLINTON ANTHONY.
_Brown Magazine_.
~O Mores!~
Cupid's bow is lying broken,
Fallen on the ground,
And his arrows all with blunted
Points are strewn around.
For to reach our modern hearts
Powerless are the blind god's darts,
From his rosy shoulders stripped;
Since, to pierce the breasts so cold,
Shafts must always be of gold,
Arrows must be diamond-tipped.
ALBERT ELLSWORTH THOMAS.
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