I wonder why it droops and flows
About her face; howe'er she pose,
It always serves her as a screen;
I cannot guess, and yet I ween
It keeps the freckles from her nose,
Her leghorn hat.
_Yale Record._
~Equivocal.~
On the wealthy Larica's worn features I wrote
In rhyme some extravagant praise.
The verses were spurned (and I'm in the same boat),
For I called them "Some _Lines_ on Her Face."
BEN JOHNSON.
_Brunonian_.
~A Problem.~
My love's face is exceeding fair,
With eyes like jewels bright;
Above, a wealth of flowing hair,
A golden crown of light.
With smiles more radiant than the sun,
My love frees me from care,
And yet, when all is said and done,
I'm driven, to despair.
And if the reason you'd seek out
Why I should mournful be,
I'll tell you that I'm filled with doubt
Which girl is meant for me.
And yet I love but one sweet face,--
Oh, happy he who wins,--
But I, I'm in an awkward place,
My love, you see, is twins.
G.P. DAY.
_Yale Record_.
~The Outward Shows.~
She was the _premiere danseuse_ of the ballet,
And she tripped the light fantastic like a fay;
She was so sweet and cunning,
And withal so very stunning,
That I was bound to meet her right away.
I went behind the scenes after the play,
And imagine my surprise as well you may:
This maid so sweet and cunning,
And withal so very stunning,
I'll swear that she was forty if a day.
Pages:
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95