The Farewell
Not going abroad? What, to-morrow,
And to stay, goodness knows for how long?
Really, Jack, ’twould appear that dry sorrow
Had done even you, sir, a wrong.
It has? Ha, ha, ha! What a joke, sir!
Is it Mabel or Jenny or Nell?
I’m sure you are wrong,—hold my cloak, sir,—
Am I not an old friend? Come now, tell.
The prince of our set broken-hearted!
What a joke! Who rejected you? Speak!
Did you look like that, Jack, when you parted?
Was that pallor of death on your cheek?
You interest me. Tell me about it;
And let your old chum, sir, console.
Hard hit in the heart. I don’t doubt it;
You were made for that sort of a rôle.
Did you bend on your knee, like an actor,
Hardly knowing just where to begin?
Was dear mamma’s consent the main factor?
What a fool the poor girl must have been!
Who was she? What!—I?—You were jealous?
O, Jack, who’d have thought such a thing?
You’ve been certainly not over-zealous.
But kiss me—and where is the ring?