ONE summer day in early spring—
How well I can recall
The falling snow—no, come to think,
It happened at the skating-rink:
It must have been the fall.
I never shall forget that fall,
When, spurning all advice,
I buckled on a pair of skates,
And, cutting fancy figure-eights,
Sat down upon the ice.
I think it was a lemon ice
Or some such sparkling fruit,
She smiled and said she would prefer
A raspberry cream—the kind you stir—
I quickly followed suit.
A simple suit of homespun tweed
That ended at the knees!
No wonder that my legs are chill.
Quick, nurse! another camphor pill!
I fear I’m going to sneeze.