COME out, love—the night is enchanting! | |
| The moon hangs just over Broadway, | |
| The stars are all lighted and panting— | |
| (Hot weather up there, I dare say!) | |
| ’Tis seldom that “coolness” entices, | 5 |
| And love is no better for chilling— | |
| But come up to Thompson’s for ices, | |
| And cool your warm heart for a shilling! | |
| |
| What perfumes come balmily o’er us? | |
| Mint juleps from City Hotel! | 10 |
| A loafer is smoking before us— | |
| (A nasty cigar, by the smell!) | |
| Oh Woman! thou secret past knowing! | |
| Like lilachs that grow by the wall, | |
| You breathe every air that is going, | 15 |
| Yet gather but sweetness from all! | |
| |
| On, on! by St. Paul’s and the Astor! | |
| Religion seems very ill-plann’d, | |
| For one day we list to the pastor, | |
| For six days we list to the band! | 20 |
| The sermon may dwell on the future, | |
| The organ your pulses may calm— | |
| When—pest!—that remembered cachucha | |
| Upsets both the sermon and psalm! | |
| |
| Oh, pity the love that must utter | 25 |
| While goes a swift omnibus by! | |
| (Though sweet is ice-cream when the flutter | |
| Of fans shows thermometers high)— | |
| But if what I bawl, or I mutter, | |
| Falls into your ear but to die, | 30 |
| Oh, the dew that falls into the gutter | |
| Is not more unhappy than I! | |
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