I pray thee, where is the old-time wig, And where is the lofty hat? Where is the maid on the road in her gig, And where is the fire-side cat? Never was sight more fair than that, Outshining, outreaching them all, There in the night where lovers sat- But where is the pink parasol? Where in the park is the dark spadille With scent of lavender sweet, That never was held in the mad quadrille, And where are the slippered feet? Ah! we'd have given a pound to meet The card that wrought our fall The card that none other of all could beat- But where is the pink parasol? Where is the roll of the old calash, And the jog of the light sedan? Whence Chloe's diamond brooch would flash And conquer poor peeping man. Answer me, where is the painted fan And the candles bright on the wall; Where is the coat of yellow and tan- But where is the pink parasol? Prince, these baubles are far away, In the ruin of palace and hall, Made dark by the shadow of yesterday-- But where is the pink parasol? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOLY POEMS: 2 by GEORGE BARKER THE PRAIRIES by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT SONNET by ALICE RUTH MOORE DUNBAR-NELSON SIX O'CLOCK by TRUMBULL STICKNEY WALLS by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. VERSES TO A YOUNG FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON |