THE LADIES OF ST. JAMES'S. A PROPER NEW BALLAD OF THE COUNTRY AND THE TOWN. The ladies of St. James's But Phyllida, my Phyllida! Go swinging to the play; The breath of heath and furze, Their footmen run before them, When breezes blow at morning, With a "Stand by! Clear the way!" Is scarce so fresh as hers. But Phyllida, my Phyllida! The ladies of St. She takes her buck James's, led shoon, They're painted to When we go out a the eyes; courting Their white it stays Beneath the harvest forever, moon. Their red it never dies; The ladies of St. But Phyllida, my PhylJames's lida! Wear satin on their Her color comes backs; and goes; They sit all night at It trembles to a Oinbre, lily, With candles all of It wavers to a rose. wax; But Phyllida, my Phyllida! The ladies of St. She dons her russet James's gown With “Mercy!" and And runs to gather with “Lud!” May dew They season all their Before the world is speeches (They come of noble BEFORE THE WORLD IS DOWN." blood); The ladies of St. James's, But Phyllida, my Phyllida ! They are so fine and fair Her shy and simple words You'd think a box of essences Are sweet as, after rain-drops, Was broken in the air; The music of the birds. |