When hearts are trumps | Page 7

I steel my heart for fear of this,--
I steel my heart and steal a kiss.
I'd steal the sacramental wine
If it were sweet as kiss of thine!
Before her Mirror.
I pause before her mirror and reflect
(That's what the mirror does, I
take it, too);
Reflect how little it has known neglect,
And think, "O
mirror, would that I were you."
She has no secrets that you do not know,
You and yon crescent box
of poudre de rose.
And even these long curling irons can show

Much evidence of use, yet naught disclose.
Here, when she smiles, you know it is her teeth
She's putting to the
test ere she depart
For the gay revel on the lawn beneath,
Or
moonlight ramble that may break a heart.
Here she may blush, until she, red as wine,
Knows that her triumphs
have not ceased to be.
Here, when she frowns, and looks still more
divine,
You know, wise mirror, that she thinks of me.
At Old Point Comfort.
You don't think of dresses, or ducats, or dukes;
You don't care for
chaperone's rigid rebukes;
It's just simply grand,
To lie there on the
sand,
Down at the beach,--
If a man's within reach.
Some like the moonlight and some like the sun,
Some flirt in earnest
and some flirt in fun;
It's worth all the rash,
Reckless spending of
cash,
All the dresses you spoil,
All the tempers you roil,
Down at

the beach,--
If a man's within reach.
It's better than sleigh-rides, cotillons, or teas,
It makes the dull
Patriarch's knickerbocked knees
Shake in the dance,
And then one
has a chance,
If one's pretty and smart,
With a tongue not too tart,

Of presenting papaw
With a new son-in-law,
Down at the beach,--

If a man's within reach.
A Drop Too Much.
I praised her hair, I praised her lips,
She looked up with surprise;
I
bowed to kiss her finger-tips,
And then she dropped her eyes.
I said love ruled the world; that I
Adored her; called her "Nan."
She
merely looked a little shy,
And then she dropped her fan.
I took the hint, and at her feet
I knelt--yes, quite absurd;
But oh, my
fond heart wildly beat
To hear her drop a word.
I told her all: my talents few,
My direful lack of pelf.
(We all have
erred.) She said "Adieu,"
And then dropped me myself.
Ingratitude.
Last night young Cupid lost his way,
And came to me to find it.

He'd been a truant all the day,
But didn't seem to mind it.
I put him in a hansom then
For home, and feed the cabby;
But my
reward was what most men
Would call extremely shabby.
He got his bow and arrows out,
And pierced my heart, nor tarried,

But drove away ere I could shout,
"Great Heavens, Cupe, I'm
married!"
A Few Resolutions.

(With Reservations)
He shall never know that I love him--
Until he asks if I do.
And I'll
feel very much above him--
When he stoops to tie my shoe.
And I shall never kiss him--
Until he kisses me.
And I shall never
miss him--
Till he sails over the sea.
And I shall never wed him,
Nor call myself his bride--
Till Cupid
and I have led him
Right up to the minister's side.
A Dilemma.
A letter for me,
From the girl that I love!
Just penned by her hand

And caressed by her glove.
A jewel--a gem--ah!
A letter from
Emma.
A letter for me,
Oh, what joy, what surprise!
Just kissed by her
lips--
At least, blest by her eyes.
'T is opened--ahem, ah!
A letter
from Emma.
A letter for me,
From my sweet little bird.
Eight pages, by Jove!

And I can't read a word.
A precious dilemma,
This letter from
Emma!
A Choice not Necessary.
Here is a rose,
Here is a kiss;
Which do you choose?
One rhymes
with prose;
One rhymes with bliss.
Ah, you amuse.
You hesitate,
You blush, you sigh.
What! are you loath?
'Tis
getting late;
Be quick--
Fool, take them both!
That Boston Girl.
Her voice is sweet,
Her style is neat;
She'd move the world with but

a pen.
Her mind is clear;
Her sight, though near,
Is long enough to
capture men.
What matters it her learning, then?
The Hero.
He looked so handsome, proud, and brave,
As he stood there, straight
and tall,
With his steadfast eyes, so gray, so grave,
The beau of the
Hunt Club ball.
Ah me, full many a white breast sighed
For the favor of his hand,--

For the love of a heart so true, so tried,
For life, you understand.
He looked a hero; he was more,
A martyr, too, perchance;
For he
went to the oldest girl on the floor,
And led her out to dance.
The Sweet Summer Girl.
She has hair that is fluffy, straight, banged, or half curled; Has a parasol,
oft by her deft fingers twirled.
She has eyes either brown or black,
gray or true blue;
Has a neat fitting glove and a still neater shoe.
She has cheeks that make bitter the envious rose;
She has trunks upon
trunks of the costliest clothes;
She has jewels that shine as the stars
do at night;
And she dances as Ariel dances--or might.
She knows nothing much, but she's great on the smile;
Her profession
is love, and she flirts