HOW SHE FELT
IN HER
FIRST CORSET
AND OTHER POEMS.——
BY MATT. W. ALDERSON.
——
Let all thy actions have a motive true;
Inwardly feel and love whate'er you do;
Naught but wrong acts e'er cause the blush of shame,
And, right yourself, then scorn another's blame.
BUTTE, MONTANA:
PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR.
1887.
Copyright, 1887.
By Matt. W. Alderson.
BUTTE, MONTANA:
PRESS OF THE MINER PUBLISHING CO.
SECOND THOUSAND.
HOW SHE FELT IN HER FIRST CORSET.
It occurred at Belgrade, where the genial Tom Quaw,
Gave a party, the first that the town ever saw;
The youth and the beauty, the tillers of soil,
Attended that night, seeking surcease from toil.
There were farmers whose hair had a tinge of the gray;
There were maidens than whom none were ever more gay;
There were youths who could ride anything that wears hair,
And matrons whose faces showed lines of dull care.
Of the ladies who on this occasion took part,
Some were dressed in the nobbiest style of the art;
And the others, unmindful of fashion's decrees,
Were attired to have much more comfort and ease.
[Pg 4]
There was one blushing damsel, just budding sixteen,
Whose waist by a corset ne'er encircled had been,
But whose mother insisted that on such a night
One should find a place there, and the lacing be tight.
So the girl was rigged out as the mother desired,
But of dancing 'twas noticed the damsel soon tired.
"What's the matter?" was asked by some one at her side.
"I feel just like bucking," the maiden replied.
A LOVER'S VALENTINE.
Sweetheart of mine,
A valentine,
In duty bound, I send thee,
And wish that joy,
Free from alloy,
May evermore attend thee.
Near, or apart,
Still may thy heart
To mine in friendship nestle;
For strong and free,
In love for thee,
'Gainst countless foes I'd wrestle.
Since I am thine,
Pray do be mine,
My heart prompts me to ask thee;
Thy charming face,
And matchless grace,
I own have quite possessed me.