Gravely watching beneath her pass Many a bonny lad and lass. Long, prim ringlets of nut-brown hair, Shoulders dimpled and white and fair, Hazel eyes with their lashes long, Mouth that was shaped for the words of song. Cheek of blossom and brow of snow: This was a maiden of long ago.
Great grandmamma proudly gazes down; And over her face steals a sombre frown. Strange is the world, on which to-day, Great-grandmamma looks from far away; And her lovely, scornful eyes can see That nothing’s the same as it used to be.
Maidens were shrinking and shy of yore. But old-time manners are now no more; Boldly they flaunt in these mad, new days. Who eve" heard of such shameless ways? Great-grandmamma frowns and whispers low: "Not like the girls of long ago.”
Into the hush of the octagon room. Steal two forms through its perfumed gloom; Tall and handsome and manly, he; Fair and dainty and graceful, she, With the hazel eyes and the nut-brown hair Of the stately lady who watches there. Beneath the portrait, the lovers stand. Close in his own he holds her hand; A tremulous question, a whispered yes; And then the joy of a fond caress! Can it be that the wooer has kissed his prize. Under great-grandmamma’s very eyes ? But great-grandmamma's face has lost its frown. And very tenderly looks she down, On the lad and lassie who here to-day Are making love in the sweet, old way; Great-grandmamma smiles and whispers low: "Just like the girls of long ago.”
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