Verse > Anthologies > Fuess and Stearns, eds. > The Little Book of Society Verse
Fuess and Stearns, comps.  The Little Book of Society Verse.  1922.
My Mistress’s Boots
By Frederick Locker-Lampson
        She has dancing eyes and ruby lips
Delightful boots—and away she skips.

THEY nearly strike me dumb,—
I tremble when they come
This palpitation means
These boots are Geraldine’s—        5
      Think of that!
O where did hunter win
So delicate a skin
      For her feet?
You lucky little kid,        10
You perish’d, so you did,
      For my sweet.
The faery stitching gleams
On the sides, and in the seams,
      As it shows        15
The Pixies were the wags
Who tipt these funny tags,
      And these toes.
What soles to charm an elf!
Had Crusoe, sick of self,        20
      Chanced to view
One printed near the tide,
O, how hard he would have tried
      For the two!
For Gerry’s debonair,        25
And innocent, and fair
      As a rose;
She ’s an angel in a frock,
With a fascinating cock
      To her nose.        30
The simpletons who squeeze
Their extremities to please
Would positively flinch
From venturing to pinch        35
Cinderella’s lefts and rights
To Geraldine’s were frights:
      And I trow,
The damsel, deftly shod,        40
Has dutifully trod
      Until now.
Come, Gerry, since it suits
Such a pretty Puss (in Boots)
      These to don,        45
Set this dainty hand awhile
On my shoulder, dear, and I’ll
      Put them on.

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