Easter Morning.

        Too early, of course! How provoking!
            I told Ma just how it would be.
        I might as well have on a wrapper,
            For there isn't a soul here to see.
        There! Sue Delaplaine's pew is empty,
            I declare if it isn't too bad!
        I know my suit cost more than hers did,
            And I wanted to see her look mad.
        I do think that sexton's too stupid
            He's put some one else in our pew
        And the girl's dress just kills mine completely;
            Now what am I going to do?
        The psalter, and Sue isn't here yet!
            I don't care, I think it's a sin
        For people to get late to service,
            Just to make a great show coming in.
        Perhaps she is sick, and can't get here
            She said she'd a headache last night.
        How mad she'll be after her fussing!
            I declare, it would serve her just right.
        Oh, you've got here at last, my dear, have you?
            Well, I don't think you need be so proud
        Of that bonnet, if Virot did make it,
            It's horrid fast-looking and loud.
        What a dress! for a girl in her senses
            To go on the street in light blue!
        And those coat-sleeves they wore them last Summer
            Don't doubt, though, that she thinks they're new.
        Mrs. Gray's polonaise was imported
            So dreadful! a minister's wife,
        And thinking so much about fashion!
            A pretty example of life!
        The altar's dressed sweetly. I wonder
            Who sent those white flowers for the font!
        Some girl who's gone on the assistant
            Don't doubt it was Bessie Lamont.
        Just look at her now, little humbug!
            So devout I suppose she don't know
        That she's bending her head too far over,
            And the ends of her switches all show.
        What a sight Mrs. Ward is this morning!
            That woman will kill me some day.
        With her horrible lilacs and crimsons;
            Why will these old things dress so gay?
        And there's Jenny Welles with Fred. Tracy
            She's engaged to him now horrid thing!
        Dear me! I'd keep on my glove sometimes,
            If I did have a solitaire ring!
        How can this girl next to me act so
            The way that she turns round and stares,
        And then makes remarks about people;
            She'd better be saying her prayers.
        Oh dear, what a dreadful long sermon!
            He must love to hear himself talk!
        And it's after twelve now, how provoking!
            I wanted to have a nice walk.
        Through at last. Well it isn't so dreadful
            After all, for we don't dine till one;
        How can people say church is poky!
            So wicked! I think it's real fun.