ANNA FAY—ON SKATES

SHE glanced and gleamed from place to place
On curving lines of easy grace,
And such a form—and such a face!

Cutting her name with scroll and curve,
We watched her sway and sweep and swerve—
Elastic health in every nerve.

Each cheek was just a damask rose,
Her mouth, a bud that did unclose
O’er beads of pearl in two white rows.

Her little feet glanced here and there;
She tossed her bonnet—anywhere,
And gave the winds her wealth of hair.

The night breeze kissed her chestnut curls
As round she flew in dizzy whorls—
The very queen of village girls.

Fair maids are not so scarce; and they
Were out that night upon the Bay,
But none so fair as Anna Fay.

And Billy Jones, fastidious Bill,
Who owned the mansion on the hill,
And did—whatever pleased his will;

Cute Bill, who never got done brown;
Who dealt in farms the country round,
And stores, and corner lots in town;

Shrewd Bill—our village millionaire,
Who drove his crabs with such an air—
What business had he skating there?

Unlucky Bill! woe worth the day
That pretty witch, sweet Anna Fay,
Skated your foolish heart away.

Eight years have passed. The mansion still
Looks from the summit of the hill,
Where, like a lord, reigned bachelor Bill

Ah, Mrs. Jones, I needs must say,
You wield a most despotic sway;
I liked you more as Anna Fay.

Now, bachelors who read this sonnet,
Be well admonished while you may,
Don’t be enticed nor led astray
By any she that wears a bonnet.
There’s many a lovely nymph to-day
As sharp—on skates—as Anna Fay.
Keep off the ice when they are on it!