Classic Poem

I

MRS VERNON CASTLE

The fair and utter grace of you,
The witchery of your glance,
The young, the lovely face of you,
Delight me when you dance.

The lithe and supple charms of you,
Softer than melted air,
The rippling, billowing arms of you —
O Lady, you are there!

Or that I end this lay of you,
Fain would I ask one thing:
I love most every way of you,
But — Lady, must you sing?

II

PHOEBE FOSTER

I sighed for themes to write on;
A subject for my pen
To work its matchless might on —
Worthy my skill — and then —

A maid hight — Phoebe Foster
Swam — dove — into my ken.
I gazed and gazed and sighed, amazed;
" Oh for a worthy pen! "

III

GABY DESLYS

Thy voice hath naught of the Lorelei lure
To hold men in its thrall;
Of pitch and key thou art oft not sure
At all.

Thy form and features, thy teeth and hair
To others may seem a feast.
I know of a thousand maids as fair,
At least.

Of piquant ways and I-don't-know-what,
Of merriment, art, and wit,
It seemeth to me that thou hast not
A bit.

I never was one to raise my brow,
I never was one to scoff;
But I simply can't see, my dear, where thou
Get'st off.

IV

NATALIE ALT

Gentle, modest little flower, "
(Gilbert's self is whom I quote),
Were the warder of this Tower
But a bard of strength and power,
Not a paper pote —
This would be a lasting line
Telling you you are divine.

" Sadly lacking in our land, "
(Quoting as I start to sing)
Are the maidens I can stand
Staring at and hearing — and
Wholly everything.
Falter, feet! and metre halt!
When ye seek to sing Miss Alt.

" This the close of every song " —
This the finishing of mine:
Every lyric, short or long,
Always tries to tap the gong
In the final line.
Wherefore I confess to be
Nutty over Natalie.