L' ALLEE.

Powdered and rouged as in the sheepcotes' day,
Fragile 'mid her enormous ribbon bows,
Along the shaded alley, where green grows
The moss on the old seats, she wends her way
With mincing graces and affected airs,
Such as more oft a petted parrot wears.
Her long gown with the train is blue; the fan
She spreads between her jewelled fingers slim
Is merry with a love-scene, of so dim
Suggestion, her eyes smile the while they scan.
Blonde; dainty nose; plump, cherry lips, divine
With pride unconscious.--Subtler, certainly,
Than is the mouche there set to underline
The rather foolish brightness of the eye.


A LA PROMENADE.

The milky sky, the hazy, slender trees,
Seem smiling on the light costumes we wear,--
Our gauzy floating veils that have an air
Of wings, our satins fluttering in the breeze.

And in the marble bowl the ripples gleam,
And through the lindens of the avenue
The sifted golden sun comes to us blue
And dying, like the sunshine of a dream.