AT THE KIK-U-CHA[1]
OF all the sights I e'er beheld
In haunts of home or lands afar,
The very sweetest one, I ween,
Was Kitty at the Kik-u-Cha.
A miniature Mikado court
The salon seemed, with light aglow
And multi-hued chrysanthemums—
So "Japanesy," don't you know!
And Kitty—well, she was divine
(Celestial, I should rather say),
With painted brows and hair Japanned
In quite the Oriental way.
In haunts of home or lands afar,
The very sweetest one, I ween,
Was Kitty at the Kik-u-Cha.
A miniature Mikado court
The salon seemed, with light aglow
And multi-hued chrysanthemums—
So "Japanesy," don't you know!
And Kitty—well, she was divine
(Celestial, I should rather say),
With painted brows and hair Japanned
In quite the Oriental way.
Her robe was rich with 'broideries
Wrought all in gold and silver threads;
Around its hem long-legged storks
In solemn conclave showed their heads
A flight of cranes soared up her sash
To nest, perchance, where on her sleeve
A group of silken cat-tails spread
A most phantasmal make-believe.
Not maid of Tokio herself
Had worn her robe with more eclat,
Or flirted with more naivete
Than Kitty at the Kik-u-Cha.
Wrought all in gold and silver threads;
Around its hem long-legged storks
In solemn conclave showed their heads
A flight of cranes soared up her sash
To nest, perchance, where on her sleeve
A group of silken cat-tails spread
A most phantasmal make-believe.
Not maid of Tokio herself
Had worn her robe with more eclat,
Or flirted with more naivete
Than Kitty at the Kik-u-Cha.
Beneath a colored parasol
She sat and poured her nectared tea—
She sat and poured her nectared tea—
This erstwhile fair American,
This imitation "Japanee."
Her white hands fluttered here and there
Among the tea cups on the tray,
Then hid themselves in her wide sleeves
In just the most entrancing way.
I asked to taste her fragrant brew,
Though tea, I hold, is not for man;
She served me, but with drooping lids
Demure as pagan Puritan.
But as I handed back the cup
She sudden lifted up her eyes,
This imitation "Japanee."
Her white hands fluttered here and there
Among the tea cups on the tray,
Then hid themselves in her wide sleeves
In just the most entrancing way.
I asked to taste her fragrant brew,
Though tea, I hold, is not for man;
She served me, but with drooping lids
Demure as pagan Puritan.
But as I handed back the cup
She sudden lifted up her eyes,
And, heart athrob, I seemed to stand
Full in the light of Paradise!
To reach her hand I moved so close
I trod upon her *broidered storks
And brushed her cranes, nor stopped to think
If in "Japan" Dame Grundy talks.
I know not if that tea were drugged
With some sweet philter from afar—
I only know I lost my heart
To Kitty at the Kik-u-Cha!
Full in the light of Paradise!
To reach her hand I moved so close
I trod upon her *broidered storks
And brushed her cranes, nor stopped to think
If in "Japan" Dame Grundy talks.
I know not if that tea were drugged
With some sweet philter from afar—
I only know I lost my heart
To Kitty at the Kik-u-Cha!
- ↑ Chrysanthemum Tea.