She's gone at last! O happy day!
I saw her skirts of checkered gray
Evanish as she sailed away
O'er Jersey Ferry;
And when I beard the car-steed's neigh,
Hi! wasn't I merry?
Left free to do just what I please
That vexes not another's ease,
Nor wounds the fair proprieties
Which all should cherish;
Since in the rude neglect of these
Life's graces perish.
Now I may let my razor sleep,
Though dandies stare and damsels peep
In wonder at the horrid heap
Of facial stubble—
With none to kiss, I'll no more reap
Such barren trouble.
Just as it suits my liberal mind,
I'll let the vagrant night-wind find
Free course through open sash and blind,
A chartered rover—
You'll never catch me unresigned
To aërial 'clover.'
And so I'll read, write, muse, or snore,
Enchambered, yet en plein rapport
With the great vault that, round and o'er,
Spans earth and ocean:
I like not dungeons—all out-door
Best suits my notion.
And sooth, while such rare joys are mine,
Don't fancy I shall soon incline
Their dear fruition to resign
For dreams uxorious:
No, no, remotest crinoline
Is superglorious!