  ’TWAS the second of March, in the present year, And the morning after a revel, When the world and the flesh made a party call, Accompanied by the Devil. Their coats were creaseless, their “patents” shone, And the Devil smiled most sweetly, To think that a carefully built-up shoe, Hid his cloven hoof completely. They rang the bell at Society’s door, Sent in their names and stood waiting, The usual warm reception there Serenely anticipating. But the white-capped maid returned and said In a voice demurely level, That her mistress was not at home that day To the World, the Flesh or the Devil. The World and the Flesh grew pale—as well They might do, with propriety— For they’d be in a parlous state, without And even the Devil looked half-perplexed Till he cried—“Ah! I see the reason! It is one of Society’s yearly fads, And this is the Lenten season.” Then they all three laughed, both loud and long, For it certainly did relieve them To think that after some forty days Society would receive them; And that the unwonted quiet would give New zest to each after-revel, When Society opened her doors again To the World, the Flesh and the Devil. Hilda Johnson Wise. |
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