Recovered

Since you’re you, and you are home,

      What is left for me to wish?

Through the umber-colored gloam

      Comes the frou-frou and the swish

And the perfume of your skirts;

      And I hear the lilting glee

Of your laugh; your absence hurts

      Me no more since you’re with me.

You have had your summer fling

      In the mountains, by the shore;

Time to use your eyes and string

      Hearts, you say, at least a score;

And from your gray eyes to me

      Flashes out a teasing glance;

Ah, the summer and the sea!

      Days of youth and sweet romance!

I am jealous not at all,

      I presume I ought to be,

Of the ones who happed to fall

      ‘Neath your gray eyes’ witcherie,

Of the man who tied your shoe,

      Him who held your parasol;

That’s what they were there to do;

      I am jealous not at all.

The have had their little day,

      Ah, my lissome lass and slim,

Walked with you a little way,

      Taught you doubtless how to swim;

Now the frou-frou of your skirts

      Comes to me adown the hall;

It’s your absence, dear, that hurts!

      Now I’m jealous not at all.
 

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