154
Between the Courses.
The dinner drags—Oh, dear! Why do we dine,
Attack the menu gravely, line by line?
Outside, the moon shines like an opal hoop,
While we, poor fools, are occupied with soup!
Outside, the buttercups sleep in the grass,
The breezes stop to kiss them as they pass.
Outside—but never mind, I will not fret,
I see there's turkey to console me yet.
Once on a time—how long is it ago?—
You scoffed at dinner-parties—called them slow,
You used to say—but times are changed—Ah, me!
I must invest in a new memory,
This old one knows too much, will not be still,
Complains of hopes that time did not fulfil,
Remembers dewy gloamings long ago,
Gone—no more claret—where all good things go,
Yes; pity my grotesque and awful fate,
I'm haunted by a memory out of date!
A poor, benighted, antiquated thing
That will keep harping on one worn-out string,
That babbles on of rides through twilight glooms
Beneath the heavy scents of wattle blooms
Dwells, like a dotard, on a strand of hair
That hid your ear—and, yes, I do declare
Attack the menu gravely, line by line?
Outside, the moon shines like an opal hoop,
While we, poor fools, are occupied with soup!
Outside, the buttercups sleep in the grass,
The breezes stop to kiss them as they pass.
Outside—but never mind, I will not fret,
I see there's turkey to console me yet.
Once on a time—how long is it ago?—
You scoffed at dinner-parties—called them slow,
You used to say—but times are changed—Ah, me!
I must invest in a new memory,
This old one knows too much, will not be still,
Complains of hopes that time did not fulfil,
Remembers dewy gloamings long ago,
Gone—no more claret—where all good things go,
Yes; pity my grotesque and awful fate,
I'm haunted by a memory out of date!
A poor, benighted, antiquated thing
That will keep harping on one worn-out string,
That babbles on of rides through twilight glooms
Beneath the heavy scents of wattle blooms
Dwells, like a dotard, on a strand of hair
That hid your ear—and, yes, I do declare
