Page:Poems Cook.djvu/267

And took vast pains to "balancez"
In any but the proper way!
Red shoes, red shoes, what heavy raps,
Under the name of "gentle taps,"
Fell on your bright, morocco skins
To punish my provoking sins!
Who cared? Not I. Next moment found
Me where the ball and rope went round;
And sermons, scoldings, slaps, and school,
Were soon immersed in Lethe's pool.
I'll own my steps were sometimes pester'd,
 But nothing left the gall or bruise;
The thorn might wound, but never fester'd,
 When I wore red shoes.

The Roman in his sandall'd pride,
Gazing upon the Tiber's tide,
Ne'er met such glory in his way
As I on some "spring, showery day,"
When splashing through the puddle flood
Into a paradise of mud;
Till some intrusive voice was heard
With startling tone and angry word;
Exclaiming "Mercy! who would choose
Such place to walk—look at your shoes!"
Red shoes, how well ye served to fling
In "Hunt the Slipper's" fairy ring!
When "blouzed and thump'd" on head and legs,
I fear'd no "Miss Amelia Skeggs;"
But scream'd and shouted, clutch'd and claw'd,
Uncheck'd, unruly, and unawed;
And bounced about like "my man John,"
With one shoe off and one shoe on.
What though a tear might sometimes fall,
 And dim the lustre of their hues;
It form'd a rainbow, after all,
 Dissolving round red shoes.

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