Crumbs of Comfort

When Gladys comes a whisper wakes,

A sudden thrill prevails,

She holds the eyes of men, and takes

The wind out of our sails.

In spite of every art we use,

Their bosoms she transfixes,

And yet I'm glad to know her shoes

Are unromantic sixes.

The frocks that Leonora wears

Are absolutely sweet,

She practices such Frenchy airs

It's hopeless to compete.

Her lace is fine, her silks are thick,

Her sables make one sicken ;

And yet, though Leonora's chic,

She's certainly no chicken.

Diana has a sporting bent

And not a little side,

She's hot upon a screamin' scent

And knows the way to ride.

Her doggy tendencies would please

A print like Mr. Strachey's,

But, though she drops her final G's,

Her father drops his H's.