  Such oranges! so fresh and sweet, So large and lovely—and so cheap! They lay in one delicious heap, And added to the sumptuous feast For each and all in taste expert The acme of all fine dessert; So, singling out the very least As in itself an ample treat, While sparkling repartee and jest Of rarity so delicate In dreamy reverie I ate, By magic pinions as it were Transported from this realm of snows To be a happy sojourner Away down where the orange grows; Amid the bloom, the verdure, and The beauty of that tropic land, While redolence seemed wafted in From orchard-groves of Mandarin. In dinner costume a la mode, Expressing from the spongy skin The nectar that ran down her chin In little rills of lusciousness, Sat Maud, the beautiful coquette; Her dainty mouth, like "two lips" wet With morning dew, her crimson dress, A sad discoloration showed Where orange-juice—it was a sin!— A polka-dot had painted in; Which moved the roguish girl to say Half-ruefully (half-dÉcolletÉ)— "I'm glad it's Leap Year now, for I—" Her voice was like a moistened lute I do not like this leaky fruit!" And looking straight and saucily At cousin Ned, her vis-a-vis; While Will, who never dared propose, Was blushing like a red, red rose. The company was large, and she Touched elbows with the exquisite, Gay Archibald, who took her wit And pertness all as meant for him; Who, thereby lifted some degrees Above less-favored devotees, With rainbow sails began to trim His craft of sweet felicity; So mirth in reckless afterlude Convulsed the merry multitude, Who laughed at Archie's self-esteem, And pitied Will's long-cherished dream; While all declared, for her and Ned— His face was like a silver tray— The wedding-banquet should be spread Before a twelvemonth passed away. But, ah, the sequel—blind were we To woman and her strategy! For he so long afraid to speak Bore off the bride within a week. |
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