Mrs. Smith

Last year I trod these fields with Di,     Fields fresh with clover and with rye;         They now seem arid!     Then Di was fair and single; how     Unfair it seems on me, for now         Di's fair, and married!     A blissful swain, I scorn'd the song     Which says that though young Love is strong,         The Fates are stronger;     Breezes then blew a boon to men,     The buttercups were bright, and then         This grass was longer.     That day I saw and much esteem'd     Di's ankles, which the clover seem'd         Inclined to smother;     It twitch'd, and soon untied (for fun)     The ribbon of her shoes, first one,         And then the other.     I'm told that virgins augur some     Misfortune if their shoe-strings come         To grief on Friday:     And so did Di, and then her pride     Decreed that shoe-strings so untied         Are "so untidy!"     Of course I knelt; with fingers deft     I tied the right, and then the left;         Says Di, "The stubble     Is very stupid! as I live,     I'm quite ashamed! I'm shock'd to give         You so much trouble!"     For answer I was fain to sink     To what we all 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     And less polite when walking with         Her chosen lover!     Heigh-ho! Although no moral clings     To Di's blue 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.