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A "Steal" from Tennyson The afternoon was waning fast, As thronging Kearny street there passed, Fair maids, brides, widows closely massed, A shining stream of Steel.
On bonnet, hats, above, beneath, Flashing like falchion from their sheath, On mantle, dress, in flowers or wreath, There’s nothing worn but Steel.
From happy homes and firesides bright, From hotels glittering with light, The crowd had come. Ah, what a sight Of scintillating Steel.
“Try not to pass,” an old man cried, As two among them vainly tried To get from buttons fringe untied, Thus scattering beads of Steel.
“Oh stay!” the maid said, “let me rest My mantle thus, upon thy breast. I’ll disentangle from thy vest Buttons my fringe of Steel.”
A leer stood in the youth’s bad eye As her he answered, “Do not try To break the link thus formed by This brilliant chain of Steel.”
Beware, O maid, the soft reply— Beware the glance of wicked eye, The honeyed words, the smothered sigh— They’re none as true as
Steel.
A traveler he, from Boston bound, And as among the crowd he wound His way, he thought at last I’ve found A maid I’d like to Steal.
There in the twilight cold and gray, A “mash” was made. O happy day That joined them, though in simple way, By chain of glittering Steel.
San Francisco News Letter and California Advertiser June 11, 1881 |