By Last year I trod these fields with Di,
Fields fresh with clover and with rye;
They now seem arid!
Then Di was fair and single; how
Unfair it seems on me, for now
Di's fair, and married!
A blissful swain, I scorn'd the song
Which says that though young Love is strong,
The Fates are stronger;
Breezes then blew a boon to men,
The buttercups were bright, and then
This grass was longer.
That day I saw and much esteem'd
Di's ankles, which the clover seem'd
Inclined to smother;
It twitch'd, and soon untied (for fun)
The ribbon of her shoes, first one,
And then the other.
I'm told that virgins augur some
Misfortune if their shoe-strings come
To grief on Friday:
And so did Di, and then her pride
Decreed that shoe-strings so untied
Are "so untidy!"
Of course I knelt; with fingers deft
I tied the right, and then the left;
Says Di, "The stubble
Is very stupid! as I live,
I'm quite ashamed! I'm shock'd to give
You so much trouble!"
For answer I was fain to sink
To what we all would say and think
Were Beauty present:
"Don't mention such a simple act,
A trouble? not the least! in fact
It's rather pleasant!"
I trust that Love will never tease
Poor little Di, or prove that he's
A graceless rover.
She's happy now as Mrs. Smith
And less polite when walking with
Her chosen lover!
Heigh-ho! Although no moral clings
To Di's blue eyes, and sandal strings,
We've had our quarrels!
I think that Smith is thought an ass;
I know that when they walk in grass
She wears balmorals.