Now nears the day for fast and prayer,
For saintly sighs among the fair,
For vague regret at chances lost,
For dresses ruined at papa's cost.
Whirl and glitter and wine and song
Will erstwhile cease amid the throng;
Music, dance and riotous rhyme,
Must all be hushed in Lenton time.
The youth who sent expensive flowers,
Looks sadly back upon those hours;
In gentle Spring without a dime,
His watch, for cash, is lent on time.