84
SILK STOCKINGS
The mistress of a king in days of old,
Concealing ugly pasterns at the Court,
Brought long gowns into fashion, we are told.
Another, with trim ankles, made them short!
And bales of silken stockings came from France—
So Fashion changes at the sport of Chance.
Till Prudery rose to lower every hem—
Grey knitted worsted did as well for them!
Concealing ugly pasterns at the Court,
Brought long gowns into fashion, we are told.
Another, with trim ankles, made them short!
And bales of silken stockings came from France—
So Fashion changes at the sport of Chance.
Till Prudery rose to lower every hem—
Grey knitted worsted did as well for them!
Time lifts a curtain and we see their feet—
Some in black shoes with flashing scarlet heels,
Some in the flat, smooth satin, slim and neat,
Only the feet and ankles Time reveals,
And we try hard to judge, as to and fro
They pass, the faces from the feet below!
These surely to a Charlotte have belonged,
And these Belinda, for no lovers thronged
Some in black shoes with flashing scarlet heels,
Some in the flat, smooth satin, slim and neat,
Only the feet and ankles Time reveals,
And we try hard to judge, as to and fro
They pass, the faces from the feet below!
These surely to a Charlotte have belonged,
And these Belinda, for no lovers thronged
After this flat and hideous support
Of Cinderella's sisters! What a sight!
Across the instep into ridges caught,
And round the big-boned ankle far too tight!
While tripping as a wood nymph's after these
Arched insteps in glass slippers, if you please!
That step quite haughtily, all shyness flown,
Into a carriage from a pumpkin grown!
Of Cinderella's sisters! What a sight!
Across the instep into ridges caught,
And round the big-boned ankle far too tight!
While tripping as a wood nymph's after these
Arched insteps in glass slippers, if you please!
That step quite haughtily, all shyness flown,
Into a carriage from a pumpkin grown!
There is romance in silken stockings, set
On velvet footstools before glowing fires,
When shutters in the gales of winter fret,
And fog shuts out the city and its spires,
And you and she contrive a honeymoon,
You reading from some tome a pixy rune,
Conscious the while how the reflected flame
Caresses each dear ankle in your name!
On velvet footstools before glowing fires,
When shutters in the gales of winter fret,
And fog shuts out the city and its spires,
And you and she contrive a honeymoon,
You reading from some tome a pixy rune,
Conscious the while how the reflected flame
Caresses each dear ankle in your name!
