Classic Poem

AN OLD IDYL OF A RICHMOND STREET-CAR

All up the street at a stately pace
The maiden passed with her April-face,
And the roses I 'd paid for, on her breast
Were white as the eggs in a partridge-nest,
While behind her — driver upon his stool —
Tinkled the bell of the street-car mule.

" Going to walk up the street? " I said;
She graciously bowed her beautiful head.
" Then I 'll walk, too; 't is a lovely day. " —
Thus I opened the ball in my usual way.
" Do you see the car anywhere? " inquired
The April-face, " I 'm a trifle tired. "

I urged a walk; 't was a useless suit!
She wildly waved her parachute;
The stub-tailed mule stopped quick enow;
I handed her in with a stately bow;
And the bell rang out with a jangled quirk,
And the stub-tailed mule went off with a jerk.

Three men as she entered solemnly rose,
And quietly trampled their neighbors' toes;
A dudish masher left his place,
And edged near the girl with the April-face,
Who sat on the side you 'd call " the lee, "
(With the same sweet smile she'd sat on me).

The day it was lovely; mild the air;
The sky, like the maiden's face, was fair;
The car was full, and a trifle stale
(Attached to the mule with the stubbly tail);
Yet the maiden preferred the seat she hired,
To the stroll with me; for I made her tired.

And now when the maiden walks the street
With another's flowers, and smile so sweet,
I wave to the driver upon his stool,
And stop the stub-tailed street-car mule,
While I purchase a seat with half my pelf;
For it makes me a trifle tired myself.