  I ROSE betimes, and donned a suit Of clothes, whose fit immaculate Was not a question for dispute, Whose cut was far above debate. I breakfasted, or rather tried, But strange my appetite behaving, A., B. and S. alone supplied I fidgeted about the place, I smoothed my hat some twenty times, I almost cursed the clock’s slow pace And listened for the neighb’ring chimes— I stretched my gloves—they were a pair Of lemon kids, extremely “fetching”; And so I used peculiar care About the stretching. ’Twas past eleven when my friend Arrived, and took me ’neath his wing, For he had promised to attend Upon me kindly, and “to bring Me smiling to the scratch,” as he Was pleased to term it, being merry, ’Twas quite another thing with me; ’Twas diff’rent, very. We drove to Church, and there I found Myself the object of each gaze; I hardly dared to look around, I felt completely in a maze— We had to wait, I dropped my hat, Then split a glove in very flurry, Grew hot, and wished devoutly that The rest would hurry. When all was o’er, we had to face A grinning crowd’s rude gaping stare, I strove to don unconscious grace, We braved it out, got home, and then There came a plethora of kissin’: Of course I took good care the men Did not join this in. We next were victims of a meal, A melancholy sad pretence, And I thereat was made to feel How hard it is to utter sense: The carriage came at last, and we For not a single moment tarried, And driving off, it dawned on me That I was married. Somerville Gibney. |
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