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Title: An Idyl Of The Period
Author: George Augustus Baker [
More Titles by Baker]
IN TWO PARTS.
PART ONE.
"Come right in. How are you, Fred?
Find a chair, and get a light."
"Well, old man, recovered yet
From the Mather's jam last night?"
"Didn't dance. The German's old."
"Didn't you? I had to lead--
Awful bore! Did you go home?"
"No. Sat out with Molly Meade.
Jolly little girl she is--
Said she didn't care to dance,
'D rather sit and talk to me--
Then she gave me such a glance!
So, when you had cleared the room,
And impounded all the chairs,
Having nowhere else, we two
Took possession of the stairs.
I was on the lower step,
Molly, on the next above,
Gave me her bouquet to hold,
Asked me to undo her glove.
Then, of course, I squeezed her hand,
Talked about my wasted life;
'Ah! if I could only win
Some true woman for my wife,
How I'd love her--work for her!
Hand in hand through life we'd walk--
No one ever cared for me--'
Takes a girl--that kind of talk.
Then, you know, I used my eyes--
She believed me, every word--
Said I 'mustn't talk so'--Jove!
Such a voice you never heard.
Gave me some symbolic flower,--
'Had a meaning, oh, so sweet,'--
Don't know where it is, I'm sure;
Must have dropped it in the street.
How I spooned!--And she--ha! ha!--
Well, I know it wasn't right--
But she pitied me so much
That I--kissed her--pass a light."
PART TWO.
"Molly Meade, well, I declare!
Who'd have thought of seeing you,
After what occurred last night,
Out here on the Avenue!
Oh, you awful! awful girl!
There, don't blush, I saw it all."
"Saw all what?" "Ahem! last night--
At the Mather's--in the hall."
"Oh, you horrid--where were you?
Wasn't he the biggest goose!
Most men must be caught, but he
Ran his own neck in the noose.
I was almost dead to dance,
I'd have done it if I could,
But old Grey said I must stop,
And I promised Ma I would.
So I looked up sweet, and said
That I'd rather talk to him;
Hope he didn't see me laugh,
Luckily the lights were dim.
My, how he did squeeze my hand!
And he looked up in my face
With his lovely big brown eyes--
Really it's a dreadful case.
'Earnest!'--I should think he was!
Why, I thought I'd have to laugh
When he kissed a flower he took,
Looking, oh! like such a calf.
I suppose he's got it now,
In a wine-glass on his shelves;
It's a mystery to me
Why men will deceive themselves.
'Saw him kiss me!'--Oh, you wretch;
Well, he begged so hard for one--
And I thought there'd no one know--
So I--let him, just for fun.
I know it really wasn't right
To trifle with his feelings, dear,
But men are such stuck-up things;
He'll recover--never fear."
[The end]
George Augustus Baker's poem: Idyl Of The Period
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