Winthrop Mackworth Praed (1802 - 1839 / England)
Good Night to the Season
Good-night to the Season!—the rages
Led off by the chiefs of the throng,
The Lady Matilda's new pages,
The Lady Eliza's new song;
Miss Fennel's Macaw, which at Boodle's
Is held to have something to say;
Mrs. Splenetic's musical Poodles,
Which bark 'Batti, batti!' all day.
. . .
Good-night to the Season!—another
Will come with its trifles and toys,
And hurry away, like its brother,
In sunshine, and odour, and noise.
Will it come with a rose or a briar?
Will it come with a blessing or curse?
Will its bonnets be lower or higher?
Will its morals be better or worse?
Will it find me grown thinner or fatter,
Or fonder of wrong or of right,
Or married, or buried?—no matter,
Good-night to the Season, Good-night!
Comments about this poem (Good Night to the Season by Winthrop Mackworth Praed )
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