The Belle of the Season

Nay--do not bring the jewels--
Away with that robe of white,
I am sick of the ball room, sister--
I would rather stay here, to-night.
"The grandest ball of the season!"
"The upper-ten thousands' show!"
Yes, yes, I know it, my darling,
But I do not care to go.

Last night I was thinking deeply,
Something I seldom do.
You know I came home at midnight,
Well, I lay awake till two.
I was thinking of my girlhood,
Just how I had spent its years,
And I blushed for shame, my darling,
And my pillow was wet with tears.

I have lived in a whirl of fashion,
I have kept right up to the "style,"
I have learned how to dance the "German,"
How to bow, and flirt and smile.
I have worn most beautiful dresses,
Been the belle of many a ball.
I have won the envy of women,
And the praise of fops-that's all

Does any one really respect me?--
Could a single thing be said
That would give the mourners pleasure
To-morrow, if I were dead?
"She wore such beautiful dresses,"
"She's a dozen strings to her bow,"
"She could waltz like a perfect fairy"--
Would you like me remembered so?

Well, there's nothing else to remember
What thing have I ever done
That has made a soul the better
Or cheered a hapless one?
I have spent my time and money--
The best of my fortune and days--
In gaining the envy of women
And making the poor fops gaze.

I am going to be a woman,
And live for others awhile--
Forgetting myself for a season,
Though I know it isn't the "style."
I am in no mood for a revel--
Away with that robe of white!
And I will stay here, my darling,
And talk with my heart to-night.