Revenge

GEORGE S. CHAPPELL

ERSTWHILE, upon our Cinquiême Avenue, Where my delight has ever been inspection Of maiden witchery in brave review, My soul of late has sunk to deep dejection. For I am one who could not go to War; (I will not bore you with the reasons many.) But think you, of the damsels whom I saw, One gazed at me? I grieve to state, not any.

O BEAUTIES bright, who coldly passed me by To smile across my shoulder at a sailor, You gazed on khaki with a melting eye Though I have really much the better tailor. Your glance was tribute to the navy's blue; For chevron'd sleeve your sweet sourire was lurking; But for my snappy tweeds, however new, Your eyes were blind, your wireless was not working.

BUT now, Revenge! For Peace has stilled the storm. And day by day our warriors seek the channels Which lead them out of drill and uniform And back to business-suits and floppy flannels. Revenge! Revenge! For when, O Ladies fair, We meet again, I'll lay a friendly wager That, forced to judge men by their martial air, You'll murmur as I pass,—"Good morning, Major."