A "LOVE" GAME.
Shall we take a stroll together,
You and I,
And discuss the charming weather,
This July,
Or the picnics and the dances,
And those sweet but short romances,
Which, like other idle fancies,
Pass and die?
Yes, 'tis true that things have happened
Since we met,—
Since I saw you first with cap and
Gay rosette,
Standing like some well-drilled soldier,
Only calmer and—well—bolder,
With a racket on your shoulder,
At the net;
And your face lit up with laughter
Through it all,
Little feet went tripping after
Every ball,
While the look of bright reliance
Which bespoke a pert defiance
Of all manly wiles and science,
I recall.
'Twas a glance that struck dire terror
To my heart,
And proved source of many an error
In my art;
Yet in truth I felt not humbled,
Though my partner growled and grumbled,
As I slid and slipped and stumbled
Through my part.
You still remember, though so trifling,
What I said
As we left the lawn, too stifling,
For the shade;
And as, moved by glance magnetic
Of your eyes, I waxed prophetic,
While you smiled back sympathetic,
Calm and staid?
Is it wise, then, to remember
Golden hours,—
Recall June in December
Such as ours?
All the hopes that have miscarried—
What! too long, you say, you've tarried,
And your husband—Then you're married!
Gracious powers!