With faintest of straw-colored whisker and smoothest of straw-colored hair.
Jealousy gnaws at his bosom; he fancies me ill, I'm afraid;
Yet, sternly concealing his passion, he drowns it in strong lemonade.
Then comes the dinner! How charming! work has grown merriest play.
How I like bringing the water (springs are a very long way)!
Some one goes too, - always some one whose heart with foreboding is filled
That, with one so excessively clumsy, the pail cannot help being spilled.
Old-fashioned lunatic lovers, on tree-trunks, by poets are said
To have carved; in a similar spirit I carve - but spring chicken instead.
She praises my skill as a servant; in lamest attempt to be clever,
I murmur, How blissful the service of such a fair mistress forever!
The matrons are washing the dishes and praising each other's mince-pies;
Old gentlemen sinking to slumber with beavers cocked over their eyes.
Groups are dissolving to couples; we miss all our neighbors somehow,
Which the blighted young chemist, observing, goes off by himself in a scow.
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The Senior Transparency.
