Freston
23
IN BOHEMIA
We have salads and cock-tails and sweet monopoles
And an evening of pleasure before us;
Soft, rose-tinted lights to aid eloquences' flow,
And two men who declare they adore us.
But, alas! the curled rose-leaf that always proclaims
That something must mar every pleasure,
Is the fact of your absence,—if you were but here,
Then joy would be ours in full measure.
And an evening of pleasure before us;
Soft, rose-tinted lights to aid eloquences' flow,
And two men who declare they adore us.
But, alas! the curled rose-leaf that always proclaims
That something must mar every pleasure,
Is the fact of your absence,—if you were but here,
Then joy would be ours in full measure.
My friend sits and stares, open-eyed with surprise,
As though she believed me demented,
Having near me a brace of such dear, charming boys,
To confess myself still discontented;
But somebody's absence leaves a blank hard to fill,
No matter how good the remaining.
As though she believed me demented,
Having near me a brace of such dear, charming boys,
To confess myself still discontented;
But somebody's absence leaves a blank hard to fill,
No matter how good the remaining.
