ko f^fl i^ m LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Shelf. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. A ^L. JANUARY" By H. W. McVICKAR XXIV BITS OF VERS DE SOCIETE With twelve full -page ilhtsti^ations by HfW. McVICKAR Together with numerous illustrations by other artists. EDITED BY t'^ FREDERICK A. STOKES Third Edition. NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PUBLISHERS. r/A •^WI^SH^? -^7^V N\ \ Copyright, 1890, By FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY. AA^' This was a turn, beyond a doubt, That filled him with amaze, And so he sought his mother out, With tear-bewildered gaze. " You silly boy," Dame Venus said, '* Why did you waste your art ? Go clip your curls and hide your head,- Belinda has no heart ! " Sainuel Minturn Peck. A HER REQUIREMENTS. (rondeau.) LOVER'S sighs, said laughinor Belle, iMust with such pain and ardor swell That I shall fear his life will end, Unless a fav'ring ear I lend. Ah, sighs, not words, his love must tell ! And they must hind me with a spell, And must he deep and sad as well, — All this, if /am to commend A lover's eyes. ^'et it will all the charm dispel, And ring at once love's funeral knell, If he's too small with me to wend ; For sighs and eyes can not amend, Nor hetter, hy an inch or ell, A lover's size. Fi^ederick A. Stokes, '"4^^^ C^. Ml A^ ■l^' "JUNE" By H. W. McVICKAR UNDER THE ROSE. (triolets.) HE {aside). F I should steal a little kiss, Oh, would she weep, I wonder? I tremble at the thought of bliss,- If I should steal a little kiss ! Such pouting lips would never miss The dainty bit of plunder ; If I should steal a little kiss, Oh, would she weep, I wonder ? SHE {aside). He longs to steal a kiss of mine — He may, if he'll return it : If I can read the tender sign. He longs to steal a kiss of mine , "In love and war" — you know the line Why cannot he discern it ? He longs to steal a kiss of mine — He may if he'll return it. BOTH (yfive minutes later). A little kiss when no one sees, Where is the impropriety ? How sweet amid the birds and bees 34 UNDER THE ROSE. A little kiss when no one sees ! Nor is it wrong, the world agrees, If taken with sobriety. A little kiss when no one sees, Where is the impropriety ? Samitel Minturn Peck. A SWELL. (ballade.) HIS forehead he fringes and decks With carefully cut Montagues ; He angles his arms semi-X, And dresses in delicate hues ; His haunts are the rich avenues; Staccato is somewhat his gait ; It takes but a wink to amuse His sadly impoverished pate. A SWELL. His costumes are covered with checks ; tie travels in taper-toed shoes Through Vanity Fair, there to vex The silly young heart that he wooes ; He's clever with cards and with cues, And banters with Fortune and Fate : Alas, that the lad cannot lose His sadly impoverished pate ! He's fond of the frivolous sex ; His liofht conversation he strevv^ With " toffy," — aught else would perplex The topic his fancy pursues ; The cud of contentment he chews. While women and wealth on him wait ; And nature with nothing endues His sadly impoverished pate. KNVOY. Fair princesses, all who peruse This ballad, beware ere too late, Lest Opulence hear y 021 abuse His sadly impoverished pate ! Frank Dempster Sherman, _7 ;\%.. ^- "JULY" Hy H. W. McV^ICKAR, DOLLIE. SH E sports a witching gown With a ruffle up and down On the skirt. She is gentle, she is shy; But there's mischief in her eye, She's a flirt ! She displays a tiny glove, And a dainty little love Of a shoe ; And she wears her hat a-tilt Over bangs that never wilt In the dew. *Tis rumored chocolate creams Are the fabric of her dreams — But enough ! I know beyond a doubt That she carries them about In her muff. With her dimples and her curls She exasperates the girls Past belief: They hint that she's a cat, And delightful things like that In their grief. 40 DOLLIE. It Is shocking, I declare! But what does Dollie care When the beaux Come flocking to her feet Like the bees around a sweet Little rose? Samuel Minium Peck, JULY. G (VIRELAI NOUVEAU.) OOD-BYE to the Town !— good-bye Hurrah ! for the sea and the sky ! In the street the flower-girls cry ; In the street the water-carts ply ; And a fluter, with features a-wry, Plays fitfully, " Scots, wha hae" — And the throat of that fluter is dry ; Good-bye to the Town ! — good-bye ! 42 JULY. And over the roof-tops nigh Comes a waft Lke a dream of the May; And a lady-bird lit on my tie ; And a cock-chafer came with the tray ; And a butterfly (no one knows why) Mistook my Aunt's cap for a spray ; And " next door" and " over the way" The neighbors take wing and fly : Hurrah ! for the sea and the sky ! To Buxton, the waters to try, — To Buxton goes old Mrs. Bligh ; And the Captain to Homburg and play Will carry his cane and his eye ; And even Miss Morgan Lefay Is flitting — to far Peckham Rye ; And my Grocer has gone — in a " Shay," And my Tailor has gone — in a " Fly;" — • Good-bye to the Town ! — good-bye ! And it's O for the sea and the sky ! And it's O for the boat and the bay ! For the white foam whirling by, And the sharp, salt edge of the spray ! For the wharf where the black nets fry, And the wrack and the oarweed sway ! For the stroll when the moon is high To the nook by the Flag-house gray ! For the risus ab angulo shy From the Some-one we designate *' Di ! " For the moment of silence,— the sigh ! " How I dote on a Moon ! " " So do I ! " For the token we snatch on the sly JULY. 43 (With nobody there to say Fie !) Hurrah ! for the sea and the sky ! So PhilHs, the fawn-footed, hie For a hansom. Ere close of the day Between us a " world" must lie, — Good-bye to the Town ! — good-bye ! Hurrah ! for the sea and the sky! Austin Dobson, r> AUGUST" By H. W. McVICKAR ON NEWPORT BEACH (rondeau.) ON Newport beach there ran right merrily, In dainty navy blue clothed to the knee, Thence to the foot in white au natttrel, A little maid. Fair was she, truth to tell, As Oceanus' child Callirrhoe. '^^-^afM*?^ '*^" '" ifiifyirCj '"tm m **^ ....jiia^aAAM^iesA 4S ON NEWPORT BEACH. In the soft sand lay one small shell, its wee Keen scallops tinct with faint hues, such as be In girlish cheeks. In some old storm it fell On Newport Beach. There was a bather of the species hc^ Who saw the little maid go toward the sea ; Rushing to help her through the billowy swell, He set his sole upon the little shell, And heaped profanely phrased obloquy On Newport Beach. //. C Bunner MY MISTRESS'S BOOTS. She has dancing eyes and ricby lips, Delightful boots — and away she skips. THEY nearly strike me dumb,- I tremble when they come Pit-a-pat : This palpitation means These Boots are Geraldine's — Think of that ! O, where did hunter win So delicate a skin For her feet ? You lucky little kid, You perish'd, so you did, For my Sweet. The faery stitching gleams On the sides, and in the seams, And reveals That the Pixies were the wags Who tipt these funny tags, And these heels. What soles to charm an elf ! — Had Crusoe, sick of self, Chanced to view 50 MY MISTRESS'S BOOTS. One printed near the tide, O, how hard he would have tried For the two I For Gerry's debonair, And innocent and fair As a rose ; She's an Angel in a frock, She's an Angel with a clock To her hose! The simpletons who squeeze Their pretty toes to please Mandarins, MY MISTRESS'S BOOTS. 5f Would positively flinch From venturing to pinch Geraldine's. Cinderella's lefts and rights To Geraldine's were frights: And I trow The Damsel, deftly shod Has dutifully trod Until now. Come, Gerry, since it suits Such a pretty Puss (in Boots) These to don, Set your dainty hand aw^hile On my shoulder, Dear, and I'll Put them on. Frederick Locker, "SEPTEMBER /^p, >^l^ By H. W. McVICKAR. THE "STAY-AT-HOME'S" PLAINT. THE Spring has grown to Summer; The sun is fierce and high ; The city shrinks, and withers Beneath the burning sky. Ailantus trees are fragrant, And thicker shadows cast, Where berry-girls, with voices shrill, And watering carts go past. In offices like ovens We sit without our coats ; Our cuffs are moist and shapeless No collars bind our throats. W^e carry huge umbrellas On Broad Street and on Wall, Oh, how thermometers go up ! And, oh, how stocks do fall ! Along the scented hedge-rows, Among the green old trees, Are blooming city faces 'Neath rosy-lined pongees. They're cottaging at Newport ; They're bathing at Cape May ; In Saratoga's ball-rooms They dance the hours away. 56 THE ''STAY-AT HOME'S" PLAINT. Their voices through the quiet Of haunted Catskill break ; Or rouse those dreamy dryads, The nymphs of Echo Lake. The hands we've led through Germans, And squeezed, perchance, of yore, Now deftly grasp the bridle, The mallet, and the oar. The eyes that wrought our ruin On other men look down ; We're but the broken play- things They've left behind in town. The nights are full of mu- sic. Melodious Teuton troops Beguile us, calmly smoking, On balconies and stoops. With eyes half-shut, and dreamy, We watch the fire-flies' spark, And image far-off faces. As day dies into dark. The avenue is lonely. The houses choked with dust ; The shutters, barred and bolted. The bell-knobs all a-rust. No blossom-like Spring dresses, No faces young and fair, From " Dickel's" to ' The Brunswick," No promenader there. THE ** STAY-AT-HOME'S" PLAINT. 57 The girls we used to walk with Are far away, alas ! The feet that kissed its pavement Are deep in country grass. Oh, happy Gran'dame Nature, Whose wandering children come To light with happy faces The dear old mother-home, Be tender with our darlings, Each merrv maiden bears Such love and longing with her — Men's lives are wrapped in theirs. Georo;e A. Baker, A VACATION VILLANELLE. HALCYON hours of happy holiday, When frets of function and of fashion flee (Sweet is the sunshine, soft the summer's sway). Ye whisper " welcome" to our wandering way, And give a gracious greeting to our glee, O halcyon hours of happy holiday ! Or pacing prairies in pursuit of prey, Or sailing silent on a southern sea (Sweet is the sunshine, soft the summer's sway), Or gliding giddy down some glacier gray, Or joining in a German jubilee, O halcyon hours of happy holiday ! We l)reathe such buoyant bliss that we betray Our sportive spirits strangely — sans souci Sweet is the sunshine, soft the summer's sway, And dear the dreaming of these days distraits We find we ye, so faineants and free, O halcyon hours of happy holiday ! Cotsford Dick, OCTOBER" By H. W. McVICKAR, ROTTEN ROW. I HOPE I'm fond of much that s good, As well as much that's gay ; I'd like the country if I could ; I love the Park in May : And when I ride in Rotten Row, I wonder why they call'd it so. A lively scene on turf and road ; T The crowd is bravely drest : j The Ladies Mile has overflowed. The chairs are in request : The nimble air, so soft, so clear, Can hardly stir a ringlet here. I'll halt beneath those pleasant trees — And drop my bridle-rein, And, quite alone, indulge at ease The philosophic vein : I'll moralize on all I see — Yes, it was all arranored for me ! Forsooth, and on a livelier spot The sunbeam never shines. Fair ladies here can talk and trot With statesmen and divines : Could I have chosen, I'd have been A Duke, a Beauty, or a Dean. 62 ROTTEN ROW. What grooms ! What gallant gentlemen ! What well-appointed hacks ! What glory in their pace, and then What Beauty on their backs ! My Pegasus would never flag If weighted as my Lady's nag. But where is now the courtly troop That once rode laughing by ? I miss the curls of Cantilupe, The laugh of Lady Di : They all could laugh from night to morn, And Time has laugh'd them all to scorn. I then could frolic in the van With dukes and dandy earls ; Then I was thought a nice young man By rather nice young girls ! I've half a mind to join Miss Browne, And try one canter up and down. Ah, no — ril linger here awhile, And dream of days of yore ; For me bright eyes have lost the smile, The sunny smile they wore : — Perhaps they say, what I'll allow. That I'm not quite so handsome now. Frederick Lncker FROM "A LETTER OF ADVICE. From Miss Medora Jrevzliati, at Padua, to Miss Araminta Vaimsoier in London." YO LI tell me you're promised a lover, \ My own Araminta, next week ; Why cannot my fancy discover The hue of his coat and his cheek? Alas ! if he look like another, A vicar, a banker, a beau, Be deaf to your father and mother, My own Araminta, say " No !" O think of our favorite cottage. And think of our dear Lalla Rookh ! How we shared with the milkmaids their pottage, And drank of the stream from tlie brook ; How fondly our loving lips falter'd " What further can grandeur bestow ?" My heart is the same ; — is yours alter'd ? My own Araminta, say " No !" If he wears a top-boot in his wooing, If he comes to you riding a cob. If he talks of his baking or brewing, If he puts up his feet on the hob, If he ever drinks port after dinner. If his brow or his breeding is low, If he calls himself " Thompson" or " Skinner," My own Araminta, say " No !" 64 A LETTER OF ADVICE. If he Studies the news in the papers While you are preparing the tea, If he talks of the damps or the vapors While moonlight lies soft on the sea, If he's sleepy, while you are capricious. If he has not a muscial " Oh !" If he does not call Werther delicious, — My own Araminta, say " No !" If he speaks of a tax or a duty, If he does not look grand on his knees, If he's hlind to a landscape of beauty, Hills, valleys, rocks, waters, and trees. If he dotes not on desolate towers, If he likes not to hear the blasts blow. If he knows not the language of flowers, — My own Araminta, say "No !" He must walk — like a god of old story Come down from the home of his rest, He must smile — like the sun in his glory On the buds he loves ever the best ; And oh ! from its ivory portal Like music his soft speech must flow ! — If he speak, smile, or walk like a mortal, My own Araminta, say " No !" Winthrop M. Praed, Mf 'NOVEMBER By H. W. McVlCKAR. . . .J A COQUETTE. (ballade.) SHE wears a most bewitching bang, — Gold curls made captive in a net ; Her dresses with precision hang ; Her hat observes the stylish set ; She has a poodle for a pet, And drives a dashing drag and pony : I know it, though we've never met, — I've seen her picture by Sarony. Her phrases all are fraught with slang. The very latest she can get ; She sings the songs that Patience sang, . Can whistle airs from " Olivette," And, in a waltz, perhaps, might let You squeeze her hand, with gems all stony : I know it, though we've never met, — I've seen her picture by Sarony. Her heart has never felt love's pang. Nor know^n a momentary fret ; Want never wounds her with his fang; She likes to run Papa in debt ; She'll smoke a slender cigarette Sub rosa with a favored crony : I know it, though we've never met,- I've seen her picture by Sarony. 68 A COQUETTE. ENVOY. Princes, beware this gay coquette ! She has no thoughts of matrimony : I know it, though we've never met, — I've seen her picture by Sarony. Frank Dempster Sherman, V TIME'S REVENGE. HEN I was ten and she fifteen — Ah, me, how fair I thought her ! She treated with disdainful mien The homage that I brought her. And, in a patronizing way, Would of my shy advances say : " It's really quite absurd, you see ; He's very much too young for me.'* I'm twenty now, she twenty-five — Well, well ! how old she's growing ! I fancy that my suit might thrive If pressed again ; but owing To great discrepancy in age. Her marked attentions don't engage My young affections, for, you see. She's really quite too old for me. Walter Learned. ( ( DECEMBER" By H. W. McVICKAR, HER CHINA CUP. H (rondeau.) ER china cup is white and thin ; A thousand times her heart has been Made merry at its scalloped brink ; And in the bottom, painted pink, A dragon greets her with a grin. "^fe 72 HER CHINA CUP. The brim her kisses loves to win ; The handle is a manikin, Who spies the foes that chip or chink Her china cup. Muse, tell me if it be a sin : I watch her lift it past her chin Up to the scarlet lips and drink The Oolong draught, somehow I think I'd like to be the dragon in Her china cup. Frank Dempster Sherman, A RONDEAU TO ETHEL. N teacup-times !" The style of dress AVould suit your beauty, 1 confess ; BELiNDA-like, the patch you'd wear; I picture you with powdered hair, — - Yoii'd make a charming Shepherdess 1 And I — no doubt — could well express Sir Plume's complete conceitedness, — Could poise a clouded cane with care " In teacup-times ! " 74 A RONDEAU TO ETHEL. The parts would fit precisely — yes : We should achieve a huge success ! You should disdain and I despair, With quite the true Augustan air; But . . . could T love you more, or less,- . " In teacup-times?" Austin Dobson.