She never has been to cotillon or ball,
And she knows not the styles of the Spring or the Fall;
Two hundred a year will suffice for her needs,
And an old-fashioned Bible is all that she reads.

And she has an old-fashioned heart that is true
To a fellow who died in an old coat of blue,
With its buttons all brass,--who is waiting above
For the woman who loved him with old-fashioned love.




A Retrospect.

I was poor as a beggar,--she knew it,--
But proud as a king through it all;
Though it cost me two dollars to do it,
I took little Meg to the ball.

Mere calico served her for satin;
My broadcloth was made of blue jeans.
Without crest or a motto in Latin,
Meg's style was as grand as a queen's.

And we were in dreamland all through it,
And I do not regret it at all;
Though it cost me two dollars to do it,
I took little Meg to the ball.