Tu Quoque, An Idyll In The Conservatory

                    nellie
If I were you, when ladies at the play, Sir,
    Beckon and nod, a melodrama through,
I would not turn abstractedly away, Sir,
    If I were you!

                    frank
If I were you, when persons I affected,
    Wait for three hours to take me down to Kew,
I would at least pretend I recollected,
    If I were you!

                    nellie
If I were you, when ladies are so lavish,
    Sir, as to keep me every waltz but two,
I would not dance with odious Miss M'Tavish,
    If I were you!

                    frank
If I were you, who vow you cannot suffer
    Whiff of the best, the mildest "honey dew,"
I would not dance with smoke-consuming Puffer,
    If I were you!

                    nellie
If I were you, I would not, Sir, be bitter,
    Even to write the "Cynical Review";

                    frank
No, I should doubtless find flirtation fitter,
    If I were you!

                    nellie
Really! You would? Why, Frank, you're quite delightful,
    Hot as Othello, and as black of hue;
Borrow my fan. I would not look so frightful,
    If I were you!

                    frank
"It is the cause." I mean your chaperon is
    Bringing some well-curled juvenile. Adieu!
I shall retire. I'd spare that poor Adonis,
    If I were you!

                    nellie
Go, if you will. At once! And by express, Sir!
    Where shall it be? To China, or Peru?
Go. I should leave inquirers my address, Sir,
    If I were you!

                    frank
No, I remain. To stay and fight a duel
    Seems, on the whole, the proper thing to do,
Ah, you are strong, I would not then be cruel,
    If I were you!

                    nellie
One does not like one's feelings to be doubted,

                    frank
One does not like one's friends to misconstrue,

                    nellie
If I confess that I a wee-bit pouted?

                    frank
I should admit that I was pique, too.

                    nellie
Ask me to dance. I'd say no more about it,
    If I were you!

                    [Waltz - Exeunt.]

Henry Austin Dobson

Henry Austin Dobson, commonly known as Austin Dobson, was an English poet and essayist. A civil servant by profession, Dobson was one of the most renowned poets and literary critics of the late Victorian and Edwardian periods. His work is noted for its delicate craftsmanship and profound interest in 18th-century literature. Dobson's poetry often revisited and celebrated historical themes and characters, blending scholarly interest with lyrical form.

Henry Austin Dobson

The Noble Patron.

Henry Austin Dobson, Simple Poetry

To A Pastoral Poet.

Henry Austin Dobson, Simple Poetry

The Passionate Printer To His Love

Henry Austin Dobson, Simple Poetry

In Town.

Henry Austin Dobson, Simple Poetry

English

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EARL JOYCE he was a kind old party
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Excepting as regarded gout.

He had one unexampled daughter,
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A Piece Of Advice.

        So you're going to give up flirtation, my dear,
            And lead a life sober and quiet?
        There, there, I don't doubt the intention's sincere.
            But wait till occasion shall try it.
                    Is Ramsay engaged?
                    Now, don't look enraged!
            You like him, I know don't deny it!

        What! Give up flirtation? Change dimples for frowns
            Why, Nell, what's the use? You're so pretty,
        That your beauty all sense of your wickedness drowns
            When, some time, in country or city,
                    Your fate comes at last.
                    We'll forgive all the past,
            And think of you only with pity.

        Indeed! so "you feel for the woes of my sex!"
 ...

George Augustus Baker, Jr.

Maud

Nay, I cannot come into the garden just now,
    Tho' it vexes me much to refuse:
But I must have the next set of waltzes, I vow,
    With Lieutenant de Boots of the Blues.

I am sure you'll be heartily pleas'd when you hear
    That our ball has been quite a success.
As for me, I've been looking a monster, my dear.
    In that old-fashion'd guy of a dress.

You had better at once hurry home, dear, to bed;
    It is getting so dreadfully late.
You may catch the bronchitis or cold in the head
    If you linger so long at our gate.

Don't be obstinate, Alfy; come, take my advice,
    For I know you're in want of repose:
Take a basin of gruel (you'll find it so nice),
    And remember to tallow your nose.

No, I tell you I can't ...

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Telemachus versus Mentor

Dont mind me, I beg you, old fellow, Ill do very well here alone;
You must not be kept from your German because Ive dropped in like a stone.
Leave all ceremony behind you, leave all thought of aught but yourself;
And leave, if you like, the Madeira, and a dozen cigars on the shelf.

As for me, you will say to your hostess well, I scarcely need give you a cue.
Chant my praise! All will list to Apollo, though Mercury pipe to a few.
Say just what you please, my dear boy; theres more eloquence lies in youths rash
Outspoken heart-impulse than ever growled under this grizzling mustache.

Go, don the dress coat of our tyrant, youths panoplied armor for fight,
And tie the white neckcloth that rumples, like pleasure, and lasts but a night;
And pray the Nine Gods to avert you what ...

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Premiers Amours.

Old Loves and old dreams,--
"Requiescant in pace."
How strange now it seems,--
"Old" Loves and "old" dreams!
Yet we once wrote you reams
Maude, Alice, and Gracie!
Old Loves and old dreams,--
"Requiescant in pace."


When I called at the "Hollies" to-day,
In the room with the cedar-wood presses,
Aunt Deb. was just folding away
What she calls her "memorial dresses."

She'd the frock that she wore at fifteen,--
Short-waisted, of course--my abhorrence;
She'd "the loveliest"--something in "een"
That she wears in her portrait by Lawrence;

She'd the "jelick" she used--"as a Greek," (!)
She'd the habit she got her bad fall in;
She had e'en the blue moiré antique
That she opened Squire Grasshopper's ball in:--

New and old ...

Henry Austin Dobson

Lake Mahopac Saturday Night.

        "Yes, I'm here, I suppose you're delighted:
            You'd heard I was not coming down!
        Why I've been here a week! 'rather early'
            I know, but it's horrid in town

        A Boston? Most certainly, thank you.
            This music is perfectly sweet;
        Of course I like dancing in summer;
            It's warm, but I don't mind the heat.

        The clumsy thing! Oh! how he hurt me!
            I really can't dance any more
        Let's walk see, they're forming a Lancers;
            These square dances are such a bore.

        My cloak oh! I really don't need it
            Well, carry it, so, in the folds
        I hate it, but Ma made me bring it;
            She's frightened to death about colds.

George Augustus Baker, Jr.