L' Allee

Powdered and rouged as in the sheepcotes' day, Fragile 'mid her enormous ribbon bows, Along the shaded alley, where green grows The moss on the old seats, she wends her way With mincing graces and affected airs, Such as more oft a petted parrot wears. Her long gown with the train is blue; the fan She spreads between her jewelled fingers slim Is merry with a love-scene, of so dim Suggestion, her eyes smile the while they scan. Blonde; dainty nose; plump, cherry lips, divine With pride unconscious.--Subtler, certainly, Than is the mouche there set to underline The rather foolish brightness of the eye.