Point Lace and Diamonds by George A. Baker Jr.
page 6 of 87 (06%)
page 6 of 87 (06%)
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You saw her last, the ball-room's belle, A _soufflé_, lace and roses blent; Your worldly worship moved her then; She does not know you now, in Lent. See her at prayer! Her pleading hands Bear not one gem of all her store. Her face is saint-like. Be rebuked By those pure eyes, and gaze no more Turn, turn away! But carry hence The lesson she has dumbly taught-- That bright young creature kneeling there With every feeling, every thought Absorbed in high and holy dreams Of--new Spring dresses truth to say, To them the time is sanctified From Shrove-tide until Easter day. A REFORMER. You call me trifler, fainéant, And bid me give my life an aim!-- You're most unjust, dear. Hear me out, |
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