Classic Poem

Who 's coming there, who 's riding there? He prances with a zest!
As gorgeous as a pennant,
'T is he, the bold lieutenant.
The girls from windows spy him,
The wistful house-maids eye him,
He sits his gallant charger like a monarch of the best.
By heaven! but he 's handsome in his snow-white vest.

He sparkles in the sunlight, ev'ry button, braid, and hook,
His polished boots are gleaming,
Their radiance out-streaming,
His spine is like an arrow,
And my! his waist is narrow.
His coat is like a picture in the latest fashion-book.
Just look at him, just look at him, just look, look, look!

He smiles—the young lieutenant—as benignly as a priest,
And twirls his blond moustaches
As through the street he flashes,
Bows to the girls politely,
Nods to the maids more slightly,
And sits his gallant charger like a monarch of the best.
By glory! but he 's handsome in his snow-white vest.