MY Flora, at whose feet are laid All offerings of song, has made Just one exception; And given me her leave to send A song of thanks to you, dear friend, And deep affection. What tedious walks you had to take For Madame Grundy's selfish sake! How good you were To listen to Joe's rather dry Discourse on Grecian art, while I Could talk to her! I understand and thank you for Your quiet sympathy; I saw How you pretended To deafness and to failing sight When things were said or done not quite For you intended. Ah! would all mamas, friends, and aunts Might give to urgent youth the chance You gave to me! Then more of us might win and wed! The flowery path that lovers tread Perhaps would be With fewer obstacles beset If some would not so oft forget, At two-score-ten, Romantic days they had (I trust), And kindly chaperons they must Have needed then. If, when I paid my court to Flo, I courted your approval so, And played for you The model son's devoted part, I hope, in winning Flora's heart, I won yours too. We've just agreed to dedicate A dainty cup, a Meissen plate, To you alone, When we've our little house some day, And Flo for other girls can play The chaperon. |