Nothing to Wear
(Here the nose took again the same elevation)—
“I wouldn’t wear that for the whole of creation.”
“Why not? It’s my fancy, there’s nothing could strike it
As more comme il faut”—“Yes, but, dear me! that lean
Sophronia Stuckup has got one just like it,
And I won’t appear dressed like a chit of sixteen.”
“Then that splendid purple, that sweet Mazarine,
That superb point d’aiguille, that imperial green,
That zephyr-like tarlatan, that rich grenadine”—
“Not one of all which is fit to be seen,”
Said the lady, becoming excited and flushed.
“Then wear,” I exclaimed, in a tone which quite crushed
Opposition, “that gorgeous toilette which you sported
In Paris last spring, at the grand presentation,
When you quite turned the head of the head of the nation;
And by all the grand court were so very much courted.”
The end of the nose was portentously tipped up,
And both the bright eyes shot forth indignation,
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