Henry Austin Dobson

In the School of Coquettes
Madam Rose is a scholar,--
O, they fish with all nets
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In the School of Coquettes
Madam Rose is a scholar,--
O, they fish with all nets
In the School of Coquettes!
When her brooch she forgets
'Tis to show her new collar;
In the School of Coquettes
Madam Rose is a scholar!

What ye have been ye still shall be
When we are dust the dust among,
O yellow read more

What ye have been ye still shall be
When we are dust the dust among,
O yellow flowers!

The ladies of St. James's!
They're painted to the eyes;
Their white is stays for ever,
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The ladies of St. James's!
They're painted to the eyes;
Their white is stays for ever,
Their red it never dies;
But Phyllida, my Phillida!
Her colour comes and goes;
It trembles to a lily,--
It wavers to a rose.

Across the noisy street
I hear him careless throw
One warning utterance sweet;
Then read more

Across the noisy street
I hear him careless throw
One warning utterance sweet;
Then faint at first, and low,
The full notes closer grow;
Hard, what a torrent gush!
They pour, they overflow--
Sing on, sing on, O thrush!

When the brain gets as dry as an empty nut,
When the reason stands on its squarest toes,
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When the brain gets as dry as an empty nut,
When the reason stands on its squarest toes,
When the mind (like a beard) has a "formal cut,"--
There is a place and enough for the pains of prose;
But whenever the May-blood stires and glows,
And the young year draws to the "golden prime,"
And Sir Romeo sticks in his ear a rose,--
Then hey! for the ripple of laughing rhyme!