The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

279
To see Montmorency--that place which, you know,
Is so famous for cherries and Jean Jacques Rousseau.
His card then he gave us--the NAME, rather creased--
But 't was Calicot--something--a colonel, at least!
After which--sure there never was hero so civil--he
Saw us safe home to our door in Rue Rivoli,
Where his LAST words, as at parting, he threw
A soft look o'er his shoulders, were--"how do you do?"
But, Lord--there's Papa for the post---I'm so vex'd--
Montmorency must now, love, be kept for my next.
That dear Sunday night!--I was charmingly dress'd,
And--SO providential--was looking my best;
Such a sweet muslin gown, with a flounce--and my frills,
You've no notion how rich--(though Pa has by the bills)--
And you'd smile had you seen, when we sat rather near,
Colonel Calicot eyeing the cambric, my dear.
Then the flowers in my bonnet--but, la, it's in vain--
So, good by, my sweet Doll--I shall soon write again,
R.F.
Nota bene--our love to all neighbors about--
Your papa in particular--how is his gout?
P. S.--I 've just open'd my letter to say,
In your next you must tell me (now DO, Dolly, pray
For I hate to ask Bob, he's so ready to quiz)
What sort of a thing, dear, a BRANDENBURG is.
THIRD LETTER.
At last, DOLLY--thanks to a potent emetic
Which BOBBY and Pa, with grimace sympathetic,
Have swallowed this morning to balance the bliss
Of an eel matelote, and a bisque d'ecrevisses--
I've a morning at home to myself, and sit down
To describe you our heavenly trip out of town.
How agog you must be for this letter, my dear!
Lady JANE in the novel less languish'd to hear
If that elegant cornet she met at LORD NEVILLE'S