Classic Poem

Whence this horrible stagnation?
Not one single invitation
Ever comes,
Though before Ash Wednesday morning
Tired to death was I adorning
These At Homes.

Balls and " shines" with steady measure
Every night required " The pleasure
Of my Co."
Now — upon a shelf reposes
Folded up as meek as Moses
My dress clo".

All throughout the Lenten season
Tho' I can't define the reason,
I must rest,
Gradually I'm growing thinner
And a flabby one course dinner
I digest.

So I somewhat long for Easter
When my appetite may feast her
Full extent
(When society's more sunny
Tho' I'm saving lots of money
During Lent).

No new ties, nor gloves, nor flowers,
No swell suppers — no late hours
I enjoy —
Every night I turn in early
(I'm in fact my mother's curly-
Headed boy).