Point Lace and Diamonds Part 2

Under the maple boughs we sat, Annie Leslie and I together; She was tr.i.m.m.i.n.g her sea-side hat With leaves--we talked about the weather.

The sun-beams lit her gleaming hair With rippling waves of golden glory, And eyes of blue, and ringlets fair, Suggested many an ancient story

Of fair-haired, blue-eyed maids of old, In durance held by grim magicians, Of knights in armor rough with gold, Who rescued them from such positions.

Above, the heavens aglow with light, Beneath our feet the sleeping ocean, E'en as the sky my hope was bright, Deep as the sea was my devotion.

Her father's voice came through the wood, He'd made a fortune tanning leather; I was his clerk; I thought it good To keep on talking about 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 s.e.x!"

"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 _boutonniere_ 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 pa.s.s 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.

s.h.i.+ning patent-leather, Tie of spotless white; Through the muddy weather Rus.h.i.+ng 'round till night.

Gutters all o'erflowing, Like Niagara Falls; Bless me! this is pleasant, Making New Year's calls.

Rus.h.i.+ng 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 gla.s.s of wine?"

"Ah, thanks!--greatest pleasure."