  WHAT is flirtation? Really, How can I tell you that? But when she smiles I see its wiles, And when he lifts his hat. ’Tis walking in the moonlight, ’Tis buttoning on a glove, ’Tis lips that speak of plays next week, While eyes are talking love. ’Tis meeting in the ball-room, ’Tis whirling in the dance; ’Tis something hid beneath the lid, More than a simple glance. ’Tis lingering in the hallway, ’Tis sitting on the stair, ’Tis bearded lips on finger-tips, If mamma isn’t there. ’Tis tucking in the carriage, ’Tis asking for a call; ’Tis long good-nights in tender lights, And that is—no, not all! ’Tis parting when it’s over, And one goes home to sleep; Best joys must end, tra la, my friend, But one goes home to weep! |
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