Her Manager (a wise old Guy Named Tempus) asked me if I'd try To get in "Life" a line or two About Mam'selle Printemps, his new French Star. "Rehearsals start to-day," Said he. "We open first of May." A hole, half-hid in rusty grass, Was the stage door. I showed my pass. The Doorman shook his tail and scowled. "You can't come in this way!" he growled. You would have thought he owned the place. I sha'n't forget that Groundhog's face -- Seeing his shadow on the floor, He cried, "Be off!" and slammed the door. A Bluebird, recognizing me, Cried, "He's all right; he's here to see Mam'selle Printemps. Dull-witted ass! The man's a critic -- let him pass!" Before a flow'r-rimmed pool she bent, Upon her mirror'd charms intent, While Cupids, one on either side, Their loving ministrations plied. One with a blissful maladdress Enveiled her slender loveliness. Another bound a chaplet fair Of purple crocus in her hair; Another gathered daffodil And apple-blossom; others still, With hyacinth and gillyflower, Turned Printemps' room into a bower. Then she looked up . . . I met her eyes . . @3Her@1 eyes! . . . Imagine my surprise! "You darling dear!" I cried . . . "And so It's @3you!@1 How could you think I'd know Your name in French! There's no such thing! To me you always will be -- Spring!" |