MRS. SMITH.

Last year I trod these fields with Di, And that's the simple reason why They now seem arid: Then Di was fair and single—how Unfair it seems on me—for now Di's fair, and married. In bliss we roved. I scorned the song Which says that though young Love is strong The Fates are stronger: Then breezes blew a boon to men— Then buttercups were bright—and then This grass was longer. That day I saw, and much esteemed Di's ankles—which the clover seemed Inclined to smother: It twitched, and soon untied (for fun) The ribbons of her shoes—first one, And then the other. 'Tis said that virgins augur some Misfortune if their shoestrings come To grief on Friday: And so did Di—and so her pride Decreed that shoestrings so untied, "Are so untidy!" Of course I knelt—with fingers deft I tied the right, and then the left: Says Di—"This stubble Is very stupid—as I live I'm shocked—I'm quite ashamed to give You so much trouble." For answer I was fain to sink To what most swains would say and think Were Beauty present: "Don't mention such a simple act— A trouble? not the least. In fact It's rather pleasant." I trust that love will never tease Poor little Di, or prove that he's A graceless rover. She's happy now as Mrs. Smith— But less polite when walking with Her chosen lover. Heigh-ho! Although no moral clings To Di's soft eyes, and sandal strings, We've had our quarrels!— I think that Smith is thought an ass, I know that when they walk in grass She wears balmorals.