Heigh ho! well, the season's over!
Once again we've come to Lent!
Programme's changed from balls and parties--
Now we're ordered to repent.
Forty days of self-denial!
Tell you what I think it pays--
Know't'l freshen my complexion
Going slow for forty days.
No more savory French suppers--
Such as Madame R-- can give.
Well, I need a little thinning--
Just a trifle--sure's you live!
Sometimes been afraid my plumpness
Might grow into downright fat.
Rector urges need of fasting--
Think there's lot of truth in that.
We must meditate, he tells us,
On our several acts of sin.
And repent them. Let me see now--
Whereabouts shall I begin!
Flirting--yes, they say 'tis wicked;
Well, I'm awful penitent.
(Wonder if my handsome major
Goes to early Mass through Lent?)
Love of dress! I'm guilty there too--
Guess it's my besetting sin.
Still I'm somewhat like the lilies,
For I neither toil nor spin.
Forty days I'll wear my plainest--
Could repentance be more true?
What a saving on my dresses!
They'll make over just like new.
Pride, and worldliness and all that,
Rector bade us pray about
Every day through Lenten season,
And I mean to be devout!
Papa always talks retrenchment--
Lent is just the very thing.
Hope he'll get enough in pocket
So we'll move up town next spring.
Poems of reflection. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago, M.A. Donohue & company [c1905].
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