Volume 146 — ISABEL IN SPRINGTIME.
Reading edition
There is a gladness in her eye, And in the wind her dancing tread Appears in swiftness to outvie The scurrying cloudlets overhead; In brief, her moods and graces are Appropriate to the calendar. And yet methinks that Mother Earth, Awake from sleep, hath less a share In this, my darling's, present mirth, Than Madame Chic, costumiére; My love would barter Spring's display For Madame's window any day.
"The members at the Club dance last Saturday were rather small—but this is only natural after four dances in 'the week' and the summer approaching."—Pioneer.
Certainly nothing gets the weight down so quickly.