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A Satire Anthology
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Год написания книги
2017
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Kept bidding a little higher;
And every time he made his bid,
And what she said, and all they did,
’Twas written down
For the good of the town,
By Jeems, of The Daily Flyer.
A coach and horses, you’d think, would buy
For the Don an easy victory;
But slowly our Princess yielded.
A diamond necklace caught her eye,
But a wreath of pearls first made her sigh.
She knew the worth of each maiden glance,
And, like young colts that curvet and prance,
She led the Don a deuce of a dance,
In spite of the wealth he wielded.
She stood such a fire of silks and laces,
Jewels and gold dressing-cases,
And ruby brooches, and jets and pearls,
That every one of her dainty curls
Brought the price of a hundred common girls;
Folks thought the lass demented!
But at last a wonderful diamond ring,
An infant Kohinoor, did the thing,
And, sighing with love, or something the same,
(What’s in a name?)
The Princess May consented.
Ring! ring the bells, and bring
The people to see the marrying!
Let the gaunt and hungry and ragged poor
Throng round the great cathedral door,
To wonder what all the hubbub’s for,
And sometimes stupidly wonder
At so much sunshine and brightness which
Fall from the church upon the rich,
While the poor get all the thunder.
Ring, ring, merry bells, ring!
O fortunate few,
With letters blue,
Good for a seat and a nearer view!
Fortunate few, whom I dare not name;
Dilettanti!Crême de la crême!
We commoners stood by the street façade,
And caught a glimpse of the cavalcade.
We saw the bride
In diamond pride
With jewelled maidens to guard her side —
Six lustrous maidens in tarlatan.
She led the van of the caravan;
Close behind her, her mother
(Dressed in gorgeous moire antique
That told as plainly as words could speak,
She was more antique than the other)
Leaned on the arm of Don Rataplan
Santa Claus de la Muscovado
Señor Grandissimo Bastinado.
Happy mortal! fortunate man!
And Marquis of El Dorado!
In they swept, all riches and grace,
Silks and satins, jewels and lace;
In they swept from the dazzled sun,
And soon in the church the deed was done.
Three prelates stood on the chancel high:
A knot that gold and silver can buy,
Gold and silver may yet untie,
Unless it is tightly fastened;
What’s worth doing at all’s worth doing well,
And the sale of a young Manhattan belle
Is not to be pushed or hastened;
So two Very Reverends graced the scene,
And the tall Archbishop stood between,
By prayer and fasting chastened.
The Pope himself would have come from Rome,
But Garibaldi kept him at home.
Haply these robed prelates thought
Their words were the power that tied the knot;
But another power that love-knot tied,
And I saw the chain round the neck of the bride —
A glistening, priceless, marvellous chain,
Coiled with diamonds again and again,
As befits a diamond wedding;
Yet still ’twas a chain, and I thought she knew it,
And half-way longed for the will to undo it,
By the secret tears she was shedding.
But isn’t it odd to think, whenever
We all go through that terrible River,
Whose sluggish tide alone can sever
(The Archbishop says) the Church decree,
By floating one in to Eternity,
And leaving the other alive as ever,
As each wades through that ghastly stream,
The satins that rustle and gems that gleam,
Will grow pale and heavy, and sink away
To the noisome river’s bottom-clay!
Then the costly bride and her maidens six
Will shiver upon the bank of the Styx,
And every time he made his bid,
And what she said, and all they did,
’Twas written down
For the good of the town,
By Jeems, of The Daily Flyer.
A coach and horses, you’d think, would buy
For the Don an easy victory;
But slowly our Princess yielded.
A diamond necklace caught her eye,
But a wreath of pearls first made her sigh.
She knew the worth of each maiden glance,
And, like young colts that curvet and prance,
She led the Don a deuce of a dance,
In spite of the wealth he wielded.
She stood such a fire of silks and laces,
Jewels and gold dressing-cases,
And ruby brooches, and jets and pearls,
That every one of her dainty curls
Brought the price of a hundred common girls;
Folks thought the lass demented!
But at last a wonderful diamond ring,
An infant Kohinoor, did the thing,
And, sighing with love, or something the same,
(What’s in a name?)
The Princess May consented.
Ring! ring the bells, and bring
The people to see the marrying!
Let the gaunt and hungry and ragged poor
Throng round the great cathedral door,
To wonder what all the hubbub’s for,
And sometimes stupidly wonder
At so much sunshine and brightness which
Fall from the church upon the rich,
While the poor get all the thunder.
Ring, ring, merry bells, ring!
O fortunate few,
With letters blue,
Good for a seat and a nearer view!
Fortunate few, whom I dare not name;
Dilettanti!Crême de la crême!
We commoners stood by the street façade,
And caught a glimpse of the cavalcade.
We saw the bride
In diamond pride
With jewelled maidens to guard her side —
Six lustrous maidens in tarlatan.
She led the van of the caravan;
Close behind her, her mother
(Dressed in gorgeous moire antique
That told as plainly as words could speak,
She was more antique than the other)
Leaned on the arm of Don Rataplan
Santa Claus de la Muscovado
Señor Grandissimo Bastinado.
Happy mortal! fortunate man!
And Marquis of El Dorado!
In they swept, all riches and grace,
Silks and satins, jewels and lace;
In they swept from the dazzled sun,
And soon in the church the deed was done.
Three prelates stood on the chancel high:
A knot that gold and silver can buy,
Gold and silver may yet untie,
Unless it is tightly fastened;
What’s worth doing at all’s worth doing well,
And the sale of a young Manhattan belle
Is not to be pushed or hastened;
So two Very Reverends graced the scene,
And the tall Archbishop stood between,
By prayer and fasting chastened.
The Pope himself would have come from Rome,
But Garibaldi kept him at home.
Haply these robed prelates thought
Their words were the power that tied the knot;
But another power that love-knot tied,
And I saw the chain round the neck of the bride —
A glistening, priceless, marvellous chain,
Coiled with diamonds again and again,
As befits a diamond wedding;
Yet still ’twas a chain, and I thought she knew it,
And half-way longed for the will to undo it,
By the secret tears she was shedding.
But isn’t it odd to think, whenever
We all go through that terrible River,
Whose sluggish tide alone can sever
(The Archbishop says) the Church decree,
By floating one in to Eternity,
And leaving the other alive as ever,
As each wades through that ghastly stream,
The satins that rustle and gems that gleam,
Will grow pale and heavy, and sink away
To the noisome river’s bottom-clay!
Then the costly bride and her maidens six
Will shiver upon the bank of the Styx,
Другие электронные книги автора Carolyn Wells
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