Page 25 - Poetry-Romance

Who every morning when I came to dress
Found I had some day more, and some hairs less;
I whom all mothers slander and despise,
Because girls find no favor in my eyes—
Married! A married man! Be-yond a doubt!
How, do you ask, came such a thing about?
What prompted me to dare connubial bliss?
What worked the wondrous metamorphosis?
What made so great a charge—a change like that?
Imagine. Guess. You give it up?
A hat!
A hat, in short, like all the hats you see—
A plain silk stove-pipe hat. This did for me.
A plain black hat, just like the one that’s here.
A hat?
Why, yes.
But how?
Well, lend an ear.

One day this winter I went out to dine.
All was first-rate—the style, the food, the wine.
A concert afterward—en règle—just so.
The hour arrived. I entered, bowing low,
My heels together. Then I placed my hat
On something near, and joined the general chat.
At half past eight we dined. All went off well
Trust me for being competent to tell!
I sat between two ladies—mute as fishes—
With nothing else to do but count the dishes.
I learned each item in each course by heart.
I hate tobacco, but as smoke might part
Me from those ladies, with a sober face
I took a strong cigar, and kept my place.
The concert was announced for half past ten,
And at that hour I joined a crowd of men,
The ladies, arm to arm, sweet, white, we found,
Like rows of sugared almonds, seated round.
I leaned against the door—there was no chair.
A stout, fierce gentleman, got up with care
(A cuirassier I set him down to be),
Leaned on the other door-post, hard by me,

~ 23 ~