Poems (Piatt)/Volume 2/After Her First Party

by Sarah Piatt

AFTER HER FIRST PARTY.

"It was just lovely, and, mamma, my dress
 Was much the prettiest there, the boys all said:
They said too that I looked—my best. I guess
 These ribbons suited me. You see, that red,
You did not fancy, lighted up so well.
Somebody told me I was quite a belle.

"I wish you didn't want me to wear white,
 With just a flower or two. Rose wears such things.
They 're so old-fashioned. She was such a fright!
 I wish that I had fifty diamond rings,—
I'd wear them all at once! I'd almost paint,
Before I'd look like Rose. She's such a saint."

"I thought you were the best of friends." "We are,—
 Only we hate each other! That is what
The best of friends do—in our school. How far
 Away you look! Forgive me. I forgot.
I've made you sad. I'll love the whole world too,
I guess, mamma—when I'm as old as you!

"Why don't you listen, mamma? You must be
 Thinking of Adam. Here's a bud he gave
You once in Eden—shut up here, you see,
 In this old book!" "That grew upon a grave."
"Oh, I'll not touch it, then. I wish that pearls
Would grow on trees—but not for other girls.

"Now, mamma, please to hear me to the end.
 The handsomest of all the boys last night
Looked like that picture of—your brother's friend.
 He hardly spoke to Rose. (Oh, I'm not quite
An angel yet. I shall be, I suppose,
Sometime.) I'm glad he hardly spoke to Rose.

"I wonder, mamma, did you ever go
 To a first party. And what did you wear?
———How odd you must have looked! But tell me, though,
 About your dress. How many girls were there?"
"Fifty, perhaps." "There were some boys, I'd guess?"
"Yes, there was one" "And he was handsome?" "Yes."

"Where is he now, do you think?" "I do not know.
 (In some sweet foreign country, it may be,
Among the palms.") "He might have written, though,
 In all these years," "He cannot write." "I see.
What a strange party! Fifty girls—oh dear!
And one boy—and he couldn't write? How queer!"