Here is Mama looking anxious and serious: List to the patter of smartly shod feet! Dainty young damsels, whose faces ne'er weary us, Tailor-made dresses delightfully neat! Angular ladies in gloomy æsthetic coats, Maudle and dawdle the afternoon through; Graceful girlettes in the shortest of petticoats, Flutter their frills as they walk two-and-two. Fur-coated beauties in carriages roll about, Jaded M.P.'s try to trot away cares, Dandies and poets and loungers here stroll about, Dignified dowagers bask in Bath-chairs!
Though cynics swear all pleasures fade, And cry, _O tempora mutantur_! The bonny laughing Light Brigade, Still on the King's Road gaily canter! And yet upon the Lawns and Pier, Do lots of pleasant folk commingle: While still the old, old song we hear-- The lullaby of surf on shingle! Then let's remain to laugh and laze, Where light and air enjoyment heighten-- Too short the hours, too few the days, We pass with merry Doctor Brighton!
O, WHO can paint the picture of my pet? As 'mid the grey-green hay she childlike kneels, Who shows a dainty slipper, then conceals 'Neath tangled grass its celadon rosette. A soft white robe, a broidered chemisette Scarce veils her rounded bosom, as it steals A subtle charm it only half reveals-- As sweet and modest as the violet!
A gipsy hat casts shadows, pearly grey, Across the golden sunshine of her smile. Her glance e'en cynics dare not disobey, Her dimples even iron hearts beguile-- A dainty despot on a throne of hay, Who conquers all by magic girlish wile!
O, BISHAM BANKS are fresh and fair, And Quarry Woods are green, And pure and sparkling is the air, Enchanting is the scene! I love the music of the weir, As swift the stream runs down, For, O, the water's deep and clear That flows by Marlow town!
When London's getting hot and dry, And half the Season's done, To Marlow you should quickly fly, And bask there in the sun. There pleasant quarters you may find-- The "Angler" or the "Crown" Will suit you well, if you're inclined To stay in Marlow town.
I paddle up to Harleyford, And sometimes I incline To cushions take with lunch aboard, And play with rod and line. For in a punt I love to laze, And let my face get brown; And dream away the sunny days By dear old Marlow town!