ON Dover Pier, brisk blew the wind, The Fates against me were combined; For when I noticed standing there, Sweet Some-one with the sunny hair-- To start I felt not much inclined.
Too late! I cannot change my mind, The paddles move! I am resigned-- I only know I would I were, On Dover Pier!
I wonder--will the Fates be kind? On my return, and shall I find That grey-eyed damsel passing fair, So bonny, blithe, and debonair, The pretty girl I left behind? On Dover Pier!
A CLIMBING Girl, I met, you know, Above the Valley in the snow; I raised my hat, she deigned to speak, She pointed out each pass and peak, And sombre pine-trees down below.
We watched the sunset's ruddy glow, We watched the lengthened shadows grow, Her eyes and dimples were unique-- A Climbing Girl!
To Chamouni our pace was slow, It darker grew, we whispered low; Her dimples played at hide-and-seek-- Ah me! 'twas only Tuesday week She married Viscount So-and-so-- A Climbing Girl!
BENEATH the Vines, Hotel Belle Vue, I'm very certain I know who Here loves to trifle, I'm afraid, Or lounge upon the balustrade, And watch the Lake's oft changing hue.
'Tis sweet to dream the morning through, While idle fancies we pursue, To pleasant plash of passing blade-- Beneath the Vines!
I love to laze; it's very true, I love the sky's supernal blue; To sit and smoke here in the shade, And slake my thirst with lemonade, And dream away an hour or two-- Beneath the Vines!
AT _Table d'hôte_, I quite decline To sit there and attempt to dine! Of course you never dine, but "feed," And gobble up with fearsome greed A hurried meal you can't define.
The room is close, and, I opine, I should not like the food or wine; While all the guests are dull indeed At _Table d'hôte_.
The clatter and the heat combine One's appetite to undermine. When noisy waiters take no heed, But change the plates at railway speed-- I feel compelled to "draw my line" At _Table d'hôte_!
A DIVING Belle! Pray who is she? For swimming thus armed _cap-à-pie_. (The sea is like a sea of Brett's.) A graceful girl in trouserettes, And tunic reaching to the knee.
Her voice is in the sweetest key, Her laugh is full of gladsome glee; Her eyes are blue as violets-- A Diving Belle!
I wonder what her name can be? Her sunny tresses flutter free; Now with the ripples she coquets, First one white foot, then two, she wets. A splash! She's vanished in the sea-- A Diving Belle!