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!