What is flirtation? Really,
   How can I tell you that?
But when she smiles I see its wiles,
   And when he lifts his hat.

'Tis walking in the moonlight,
   'Tis buttoning on a glove,
'Tis lips that speak of plays next week,
   While eyes are talking love.

Tis meeting in the ball-room,
   'Tis whirling in the dance;
'Tis something hid beneath the lid,
   More than a simple glance.

'Tis lingering in the hallway,
   'Tis sitting on the stair,
'Tis bearded lips on finger-tips,
   If mamma isn't there.

'Tis tucking in the carriage,
   'Tis asking for a call;
'Tis long good-nights in tender lights,
   And that is--no, not all!

'Tis parting when it's over,
   And one goes home to sleep;
Best joys must end, tra la, my friend,
   But one goes home to weep!