EVERY-DAY RHYMES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVI, Issue XIII, 28 March 1896, Page 348

EVERY-DAY RHYMES.

COURTSHIP OF IRENE. OLD STYLE: IRENE THAT WAS. He stood at the gate of the garden, as often he'd waited before In the golden days, gone forever : the mystical years of yore When the earth was young, and life was gay, and man seemed brave and true, And woman soft as an azure sea, and bewitchingly gentle and new. And he thought of the changing years since then—the years that had rolled away Since Irene came to the garden, like a fawn, at the close of the day, Timid and shy. yet confiding, and innocent as the dove; Nestling and sighing and listening to eloquent words of love. Gone are those visionary times ! The sun and the stars look down On a troubled world, and restless men, in every throbbing town ; And the Girl that Was has passed away : Irene sleeps by the sea, Where, all night long, the snow white surf sings a wild weird melody. NEW STYLE : IRENE THAT IS. But grief dies too, and he waited again, and, heralded, she came— The beautiful Irene—by a dull red lamplight’s flame ; Like a will-o’-the-wisp it swept along, glinting and glowing still In the moonlight, and the gaslight, or what other light you will. Onward and noiselessly slid the machine along roads dusty and brown, The wheels all the time going round and round, the fair one’s legs up and down. A ‘ bike ’ Irene called the thing ! two wheels, a seat, and a lamp, And tied in front, the print, Woman Free, fresh from the printing, and damp ! She had steered through traffic and gazing crowds, by road and by railway line ; Her collar and cuffs were starched and stiff, her shirt front just like mine ; Nor lawn, nor lace, nor flower she wore ; her coat, and petticoat too, Proclaimed her to all men, the Girl that Is—the woman exceedingly new. But presently the little feet of this curious modern lass, Were tripping, and beating time with his upon the avenue grass; And then they sat down, and she spoke for long, of Huxley, and Darwin, and Hume, Who had swept such rubbish from off the earth, with a long scientifical broom ! She touched his cheek with her glove tip, and mentioned, apropos, That the woman’s tide was rising, and was now quite on . the flow. ‘ It will rise, and rise, and rise,' she said ; ‘ and lave each coast and strand.’ Said he, • let it rise, my only love,’ and he squeezed her small white band.

She spoke of Wallace and Besant, and thought there was no hell. And he said she was a darling, most angelic infidel : And she thought there was no heaven ; but a haven of calm rest Might be found—upon occasions—on a pretty woman’s breast. So he knew that he was in it 1 Presently his arm was placed Round an unbelieving body, and a truly graceful waist ; But she went on, never minding what he did, or what he said— And then upon his shoulder fell a dainty, godless head. And she babbled about Darwin, beautifully, all the time, And some friends of female freedom whom I can’t fit into rhyme : So then he knew his chance had come, and, not at all remiss, He sealed upon her ruby lips a glowing burning kiss, She wasn’t vexed a bit. In fact, when he looked down again. Her pouting lips were waiting, as the parched bud waits for rain ; Yet she said ‘ Emancipation for the female sex was nigh,’ Then he pressed her still more closely—and he winked the other eye. By and bye he led her, gently, to things she could understand ; The perfume of the violet, the rot of Sarah Grand ; The pale moon, of course, he mentioned, and he pointed out the stars, And the love of Venus spoke of—and the chivalry of Mars. She clasped her arms around his neck, and then the thing was plain — She loved this whiskered fellow, who kissed her once again : And she whispered such soft whispers as poor Eve did, I suppose, (But Eve, of course, lisped Hebrew, and wore rather different clothes.) * * * * * - * • He said he’d wed Irene, and he swore he didn’t care A hang who nursed the baby, or who filled the boss’ chair ; So she rode away elated, on her bike she made a bound— Her legs again went up and down—the wheel went round and round. H.R.R. Wellington, March Sth, 1896.