THE SUMMER GIRL
I met her by the sandy shore,
I set her pretty head awhirl,
For I had flirted oft before,
Not so, I thought, my summer girl.
I sat with her upon the sand,
And charmingly she smiled on me,
And once or twice I pressed her hand,
When there was nobody to see.
And when at last the parting came,
I thought her tears began to flow,
And feeling I had been to blame
Rather rashly told her so.
"Yet now your love will make me blest."
I said, and paused for her reply,
"Oh come," said she, "I did but jest;
You're just the fifth since last July."
The Tatler, 23 August, 1906