(A Fragment of a Young Lady's Letter)
Originally published in Belgravia (John Maxwell) vol.2 #8 (Jun 1867).
So you ask me, my Clara, to tell you
How I liked the MacAlister's ball;
Who were there; whom I danced with; but—well, you
Shall hear my account of it all.
There was Captain Fitz-Vane of the Lancers;
Young Loftus—he's only half-pay;
They are both of them charming—such dancers!
So I thought I would hold both in play.
O Clara, when first they had spied me,
I was resting upon the settee;
There was Laura MacHorker beside me,
As jealous as jealous could be.
At once they came to me; what dances
Would I promise them? each bade me say:
I wish you had seen Laura's glances
At both, as I held them in play.
They begged for one waltz, which I gave them;
Nothing else, they affirmed with a sigh,
From distraction could possibly save them;—
I don't think Laura liked being by.
She was vexed—her face could not deceive me—
I saw it as plain as the day.
O Clara, there's nothing, believe me,
Like holding one's "fishes" in play.
'Twas an exquisite ball, and discretion
Makes flirting and love comme il faut:
Do you think it a heartless expression?
'Tis fashion's grand maxim, you know.
But still on one point a suggestion
Pray give me, my Clara, O pray!
Is it always safe—that is my question—
Thus to hold one's admirers in play?