Fuess and Stearns, comps. The Little Book of Society Verse. 1922.
By. Matthew PriorThe Female Phaeton
T
And wild as colt untamed,
Bespoke the fair from which she sprung,
With little rage inflamed:
Which wise mamma ordained,
And sorely vex’d to play the saint,
Whilst wit and beauty reign’d.
With Abigails, forsaken?
Kitty’s for other things design’d,
Or I am much mistaken.
And visit with her cousins?
At balls must she make all the rout,
And bring home hearts by dozens?
What hidden charms to boast,
That all mankind for her should die,
Whilst I am scarce a toast?
Unchain’d, my fortune try;
I’ll have my Earl as well as she,
Or know the reason why.
Make all her lovers fall;
They’ll grieve I was not loosed before:
She, I was loosed at all!”
Kitty, at heart’s desire,
Obtain’d the chariot for a day,
And set the world on fire.