| |
| Heigh-ho! they’re wed. The cards are dealt, | |
| Our frolic games are o’er; | |
| I’ve laughed, and fool’d, and lov’d. I’ve felt— | |
| As I shall feel no more! | |
| Yon little thatch is where she lives, | 5 |
| Yon spire is where she met me;— | |
| I think that if she quite forgives, | |
| She cannot quite forget me. | |
| |
| Last year I trod these fields with Di, | |
| Fields fresh with clover and with rye; | 10 |
| Now they seem arid. | |
| Then Di was fair and single; how | |
| Unfair it seems on me, for now | |
| Di’s fair—and married! | |
| |
| A blissful swain—I scorn’d the song | 15 |
| Which says that though young Love is strong. | |
| The Fates are stronger: | |
| Breezes then blew a boon to men, | |
| The buttercups were bright, and then | |
| This grass was longer. | 20 |
| |
| That day I saw and much esteem’d | |
| Di’s ankles, which the clover seem’d | |
| Inclined to smother: | |
| It twitch’d, and soon untied (for fun) | |
| The ribbon of her shoes, first one, | 25 |
| And then the other. | |
| |
| I’m told that virgins augur some | |
| Misfortune if their shoe-strings come | |
| To grief on Friday: | |
| And so did Di, and then her pride | 30 |
| Decreed that shoe-strings so untied | |
| Are “so untidy!” | |
| |
| Of course I knelt; with fingers deft | |
| I tied the right, and tied the left: | |
| Says Di, “The stubble | 35 |
| Is very stupid!—as I live | |
| I’m quite ashamed!… I’m shock’d to give | |
| You so much trouble!” | |
| |
| For answer I was fain to sink | |
| To what we all would say and think | 40 |
| Were Beauty present: | |
| “Don’t mention such a simple act— | |
| A trouble? Not the least! In fact | |
| It’s rather pleasant!” | |
| |
| I trust that Love will never tease | 45 |
| Poor little Di, or prove that he’s | |
| A graceless rover. | |
| She’s happy now as Mrs. Smith— | |
| And less polite when walking with | |
| Her chosen lover! | 50 |
| |
| Heigh-ho! Although no moral clings | |
| To Di’s blue eyes, and sandal strings, | |
| We’ve had our quarrels. | |
| I think that Smith is thought an ass,— | |
| I know that when they walk in grass | 55 |
| She wears balmorals. | |
| |
