Point Lace and Diamonds | Page 5

the weather.
A PIECE OF ADVICE.
So you're going to give up flirtation, my dear,?And lead a life sober and quiet??There, there, I don't doubt the intention's sincere.?But wait till occasion shall try it.--
Is Ramsay engaged??Now, don't look enraged!?You like him, I know--don't deny it!
What! Give up flirtation? Change dimples for frowns?Why, Nell, what's the use? You're so pretty,?That your beauty all sense of your wickedness drowns?When, some time, in country or city,
Your fate comes at last.?We'll forgive all the past,?And think of you only with pity.
Indeed!--so "you feel for the woes of my sex!"?"The legions of hearts you've been breaking?Your conscience affright, and your reckoning perplex,?Whene'er an account you've been taking!"
"I'd scarcely believe?How deeply you grieve?At the mischief your eyes have been making!"
Now, Nellie!--Flirtation's the leaven of life;?It lightens its doughy compactness.?Don't always--the world with deception is rife--?Construe what men say with exactness!
I pity the girl,?In society's whirl,?Who's troubled with matter-of-factness.
A pink is a beautiful flower in its way,?But rosebuds and violets are charming,?Men don't wear the same _boutonni��re_ every day.?Taste changes.--Flirtation alarming!
If e'er we complain,?You then may refrain,?Your eyes of their arrows disarming.
Ah, Nellie, be sensible; Pr'ythee, give heed?To counsel a victim advances;?Your eyes, I acknowledge, will make our hearts bleed,?Pierced through by love's magical lances.
But better that fate?Than in darkness to wait;?Unsought by your mischievous glances.
ZWEI KONIGE AUF ORKADAL.?FROM THE GERMAN.
There sat two kings upon Orkadal,?The torches flamed in the pillared hall.
The minstrel sings, the red wine glows,?The two kings drink with gloomy brows.
Out spake the one,--"Give me this girl,?With her sea-blue eyes, and brow of pearl."
The other answered in gloomy scorn,?"She's mine, oh brother!--my oath is sworn."
No other word spake either king--?In their golden sheaths the keen swords ring.
Together they pass from the lighted hall--?Deep lies the snow by the castle-wall.
Steel-sparks and torch-sparks in showers fall.?Two kings lie dead upon Orkadal.
A SONG.
I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure,?I shouldn't like to say,?Why I think of you more, and more, and more?As day flits after day.?Nor why I see in the Summer skies?Only the beauty of your sweet eyes,?The power by which you sway?A kingdom of hearts, that little you prize--?I shouldn't like to say.
I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure,?I shouldn't like to say?Why I hear your voice, so fresh and pure,?In the dash of the laughing spray.?Nor why the wavelets that all the while,?In many a diamond-glittering file,?With truant sunbeams play,?Should make me remember your rippling smile--?I shouldn't like to say.
I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure,?I shouldn't like to say,?Why all the birds should chirp of you,?Who live so far away.?Robin and oriole sing to me?From the leafy depths of our apple-tree,?With trunk so gnarled and gray--?But why your name should their burden be?I shouldn't like to say.
MAKING NEW YEAR'S CALLS.
Shining patent-leather,?Tie of spotless white;?Through the muddy weather?Rushing 'round till night.?Gutters all o'erflowing,?Like Niagara Falls;?Bless me! this is pleasant,?Making New Year's calls.
Rushing up the door-step,?Ringing at the bell--?"Mrs. Jones receive to-day?"?"Yes, sir." "Very well."?Sending in your pasteboard,?Waiting in the halls,?Bless me! this is pleasant,?Making New Year's calls.
Skipping in the parlour,?Bowing to the floor,?Lady of the house there,?Half a dozen more;?Ladies' dresses gorgeous,?Paniers, waterfalls,--?Bless me! this is pleasant,?Making New Year's calls.
"Wish you Happy New Year"--?"Many thanks, I'm sure."?"Many calls, as usual?"?"No; I think they're fewer."?Staring at the carpet,?Gazing at the walls;?Bless me! this is pleasant,?Making New Year's calls.
"Really, I must go now,?Wish I had more leisure."?"Wont you have a glass of wine?"?"Ah, thanks!--greatest pleasure."?Try to come the graceful,?Till your wine-glass falls;?Bless me! this is pleasant,?Making New Year's calls.
Hostess looks delighted--?Out of doors you rush;?Sit down at the crossing,?In a sea of slush.?Job here for your tailor--?Herr Von Schneiderthals--?Bless me! this is pleasant,?Making New Year's calls.
Pick yourself up slowly?Heart with anguish torn.?Sunday-go-to-meetings?In a state forlorn.?Kick a gibing boot-black,?Gibing boot-black bawls,?Bless me! this is pleasant,?Making New Year's calls.
Home, and woo the downy,?But your soul doth quake,?At most fearful night-mares--?Turkey, oysters, cake.?While each leaden horror?That your rest appalls,?Cries, "Dear heart! how pleasant;?Making New Year's calls."
JACK AND ME.
Shine!--All right; here y'are, boss!?Do it for jest five cents.?Get 'em fixed in a minute,--?That is, 'f nothing perwents.?Set your foot right there, sir.?Mornin's kinder cold,--?Goes right through a feller,?When his coat's a gittin' old.?Well, yes,--call it a coat, sir,?Though 't aint much more 'n a tear.?Git another!--I can't, boss;?Ain't got the stamps to spare.?"Make as much as most on 'em!"?Yes; but then, yer see,?They've only got one to do for,--?There's two on us, Jack and me.?Him?--Why, that little feller?With a curus lookin' back,?Sittin' there on the gratin',?Warmin' hisself,--that's Jack.?Used to go round sellin' papers,?The cars there was his lay;?But he got shoved off of the platform?Under the wheels one day.?Fact,--the conductor did it,--?Gin him a reg'lar throw,--?He didn't care if he killed him;?Some on 'em is just so.?He's never been all right since, sir,?Sorter quiet and queer;?Him and me goes together,?He's what they