Poetry. A Love Game.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1991, 11 April 1885, Page 1 (Supplement)

Poetry. A Love Game.

She was a pretty and frank coquette, He was a lad in his Freshman year, And they stood on the lawn by the tennis net, With nobody by to see or hear ; The ann was bright and the sky was clear, As he foolishly bent his tall young head, And whispered the rules in her list'ning ear— For she did not know the game, she said. I was a pretty and frank coquette, And her ripe lips met in the sweetest pout, While over her eyes the arch brows met, As the studied the meaning of " in " and " out " ; And half in shyness and half in doubt Questioned, with low voice highly bred, What this and what that were all about— For she did not know the frame, she said. She was a pretty and frank coquette, And her wrist was round as she tried to p J »y. But never a ball could she touoh— and yet She tossed with her racket his heart away. Serve and return were one that day ; She missed till her dainty cheeks grew red ; He won the set, as a bold youth may, Bat the little maid won the game— they said! l'xnvoi. Such are the chances of war, I fear, At tennis, when people at odds are set, and one is a lad in his Freshman year, And one is a pretty and frank coquette ;

B. E. M., in " Life."