Classic Poem

I met you all the Season long,
I loved you from its chill beginning;
Who else could show, throughout the throng,
A smile so soft, or eyes so winning?
Diana in the early Park, —
At every ball you reigned as Venus; —
And right and left was heard remark,
We soon should settle it between us.

An Ascot week, — a cloudless dream; —
An idle day at Burnham Beeches; —
An evening's dawdle down the stream
Along the shady Clieveden reaches; —
And often, spite your chaperon's qualms,
We found it far too hot for dancing,
When tall conservatory palms
Bore witness to our light romancing

One serpent thought, alas! must wind
Its path within our Eden's pleasure;
It troubled my superior mind
To contemplate your thoughtless leisure:
Amusement had a spell for you,
Which, so I felt, was simply shocking; —
I always thought a tinge of blue
Improved a charming woman's stocking!

And so, with airs of soberer age,
I tried some well-intentioned teaching:
At last, one day, I reached a stage
Of quite unwarrantable preaching:
" Shallow, " — you set your face like steel;
" Sheer waste of time, " — you flushed carnation;
" Frivolity, " — you stamped your heel,
And then, — defined the situation

" A man, it seemed, found various ways
Of culture deep and self-improvement;
Might " stand a dash in Brighton A's,"
No less than head a Temperance movement:
Might (said ill-natured folks) escape
The House of Commons' midnight humours,
To gather off a sinuous tape
The very last Newmarket rumours.

" Woman's existence, if you please,
Must ripple down a quieter channel;
To mind her soul, and keep her keys,
And regulate the Christmas flannel:
Since School Boards knocked at every door,
To read three hours a day were prudent; —
Part " Little Sister of the Poor," —
Part Lady-help, — part Newnham Student!

" My Politics? — a trivial game
Of Outs and Ins, of jobs and places;
My Letters? — just a civil name
For stolen thoughts and borrowed graces:
What if myself should indicate
One generous aim, one wise ambition,
Before I dared again to prate
My platitudes of woman's mission? "

And so I left you: all amaze,
Struck dumb by that contemptuous sally,
As though a lava stream should blaze
Along some smiling Devon valley;
I felt each syllable that fell
Come burning from the heart within you:
I never loved you half so well
As when I knew I could not win you!

Since then your fruitful life has shown
What mind indeed is worth possessing;
Each year that life has ampler grown, —
A wider work, a higher blessing:
How right you were that day! but I,
To whom the world does not seem kinder,
Dream of that far-away July,
And ask, was ever Cupid blinder?