CASUAL REMARKS ON ICE CREAM.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XI, Issue 43, 28 October 1893, Page 560

CASUAL REMARKS ON ICE CREAM.

SUMMER would not be summer without ice-cream. Icecream is the favourite currency of love. The young man expresses the yearning of his hear t in a plate of vanilla : and the maiden indicates her blushing preference in a saucer of strawberry. The young man pays for both. Besides being a useful adjunct to courtship, ice-cream is often employed to feed poets upon. It seems to start the muse better than anything else. We fed our special poet on ice-cream the other day, and when he bad absorbed his tenth plate he evolved this from his inner inanity : \t ry do I say I love you. ’Whose thoughts are from me as far As in the sky above you The gleam of the coldest star I Why do I voice a vision That is utterly vague and vain I Why do I court derision With my rale of passion and pain J You ask why my sone rehearses A fury that Fare must chill ? Well, to sell the resultant verses For a solid £1 bill. This, however, we considered a failure. It is too mercenary in its tone. We next tried the experiment upon a nice, tender young amateur poet, and the sixth plate fetched him,, and he warbled thus-wise : Sweet love, for whom on summerful eves I wait. Hid in the bushes by the garden gate. Remember that thou tie the bull-dog up. Sweet is the scent of fading lilac-blooms : Where white syringas light rhe bosky- glooms I see your younger sister in the scup. The night-winds toss the willow's pallid green. Like wandering spirits that torment unseen— Am I to stay out here till half-past one ? Blue skies of eve pale to a ghastly gray. It strikes me strong’y I were best away— I see your father reaching for his gun. That was solid poetry, and there might have been more of it if the poets feelings had not overcome him. Nobody has ever tested the extreme capacity of the average American girl as an ice creamist ; but it is popularly supposed that it is unlimited. Occasionally a plumber, fresh and flush after a severe winter, has attempted to glut his sweetheart with lemon and vanilla: but the resultant bankruptcy of the plumber has always cast a roseate glow over our civilisation.