Fuess and Stearns, comps. The Little Book of Society Verse. 1922.
By. AnonymousThe Modern Belle
S
And rocks in her easy chair;
She is clad in silks and satins,
And jewels are in her hair;
She winks and giggles and simpers,
And simpers and giggles and winks;
And though she talks but little,
’T is a good deal more than she thinks.
Till nearly the hour of noon,
Then comes down snapping and snarling
Because she was called so soon;
Her hair is still in papers,
Her cheeks still fresh with paint,—
Remains of her last night’s blushes,
Before she intended to faint.
And men with “flowing hair”;
She’s eloquent over mustaches,
They give such a foreign air.
She talks of Italian music,
And falls in love with the moon;
And, if a mouse were to meet her,
She would sink away in a swoon.
Her hands are so very white,
Her jewels so very heavy,
And her head so very light;
Her color is made of cosmetics
(Though this she will never own),
Her body is mostly of cotton,
Her heart is wholly of stone.
Who swells with a foreign air;
He marries her for her money,
She marries him for his hair!
One of the very best matches,—
Both are well-mated in life;
She’s got a fool for a husband,
He’s got a fool for a wife!