Page 21 - Poetry-Whimsy

Ode to an Odious Old Dress

Poor thrice turned garment with Thy overskirt loop high
Thy threadbare air, With careless grace,
Can I thy faded form Yet hide with cunning the
Again repair ? Oft-mended place?
Turn yet once more thy well- Goddess of Fashion, at whose
Worn narrow skirt, Shrine we bow,
Now fringed with specimens Lend me thine aid, sadly I
Of city dirt? Need it now;
Can I thy ruffles change Inspire my hand with skill
To pleatings wide, To turn the stuff,
And cover up the stains And make the scanty pattern
On either side; Seem enough.
Give thy close sleeve a And when I wear it,
Graceful, easy flow, Howsowe’er I feel,
And piece it so that Grant I may look
Nobody will know? Exceedingly genteel.
Thy shabby boddice can I May all beholders think it
Then restore, A new gown,
And shape the trimming And me the best dressed lady
A la Pompadour? In the town.

— Miss E. Conomy (Demorest, 1874)

The Spelling Bee at Angel’s
(Reported by Truthful James)
Waltz in, waltz in, ye little kids, and gather round my knee,
And drop them books and first pot-hooks, and hear a yarn from me.
I kin not sling a fairy tale of Jinny’s* fierce and wild,
For I hold it is unchristian to deceive a simple child;
But as from school yer driftin’ by I thowt ye’d like to hear
Of a “Spellin’ Bee” at Angel’s that we organized last year.

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