Classic Poem

Lavender fresh are your looks
Bond Street, in May-time;
London that's laid down her books,
London in playtime;
Sunlit eleven o'clock,
Jack, ay, and Jill,
Furbelow, feather and frock,
Fashion and frill!

Lilac'd and lawned go your girls,
So many Graces,
Soft as the dawn, or the pearls
Caught in their laces;
Lo, it was Celia laughed
Silver afar;
Here breathed a violet waft,
There a cigar!

Men who are fêted and fed,
Folk who've come croppers,
Men who fill lions with lead,
Surbiton shoppers;
Thus does the whirligig go
Blithe as a bell;
Soothly it seems that your show
Runs rather well.

Yet on this Monday you've more —
How shall I term it? —
Éclat than ever before,
Yes, I affirm it;
Why so, I hardly can say,
Saving 'tis that
Dolly is up for the day,
Getting a hat!