VERS DE SOCIETE.

Observer, Volume 3, Issue 62, 19 November 1881, Page 153

VERS DE SOCIETE.

By "Un Vieux G-arcon." No. I.— THE PEETTT GIRL WHO WINKED AT ME. When Albert Edward's birthday brought A time of glad release for me. With buoyant, beating heart I sought The sylvan fields of Ellerslie ; And there, 'mid that bucolic throng Who pressed the fatted calves to see, I met the subject of my song— The pretty girl who winked at me ! No buxom country ■wench was she, A form of classic mould was hers ; Her stature tall, her footsteps free, Might charm Diana's worshippers. My eye is sharp ; it seldom errs ; Yet asked I, do I rightly see ? Can one with such a form as hers Thus condescend to wink at me ? She winked again, a blessed wink, And plainly it was meant for me ; Enraptured, could I pause to think, Was such an action quite the T ? I bowed, she smiled, and did not shrink ; My proffered arm accepted she, And murmured, " I would like a drink !" The pretty girl who winked at me. With pride I led her to the tent ; And " many a time and oft " tint day A. short time to the Show we went, And then to drink retraced our way. Sweet converse whiled the hours away, Champagne and sherry flowing free ; She vowed she ne'er had* such a day, The charming girl who winked at me !

No more had I— 'twas quite too-too, The blissfulness of that blest time ; I only knew the minutes (lew . Far swifter than ray flimsy rhyme. I felt the earth go spinning round : Wast love or fancy made me see, Stretched out recumbent on the ground, Two charming girls who winked at me !

Next day, at noon, my eyes I oped (In clothes and boots) upon my bed. To find my watch I vainly groped — My " ticker" (bought on " tick ") had fled ; My purse was gone : (oh, aching head, ' From wild conjectures set me free !) And gone was she who bliss had shed — The pretty girl who winked at me !

To all my friends I told my loss, But little sympathy I gained ; I mourn far less the golden dross Than losing her whose charms enchained, One hints about the demi-monde : Away, foul thought ! it cannot be ; And still I dream, with fancy fond, Of that fair girl who winked at me.

I've sought her since in " gilded halls," Where wit and beauty love to dwell ; I've haunted the " at homes " and balls At Ponsonby and at Parnell. But though I gaze on many a belle, That precious one I cannot see ; Does any fellow know that girl, The charming girl who winked at me ?

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