THE SOCIETY YOUNG MAN.
There isn’t much in him, ’tis true;
But his eyes they are porcelain blue,
And his hands — oh, such loves!
With their delicate gloves,
That are always an exquisite hue!
But one thing about this Le Clare,
With the perfumed ambrosial hair,
That makes him the pride
Of his set far and wide,
Is his witching society airs!
He lacks a man’s inches in height,
But his linen is faultlessly white,
And the grace of his “tie,”
As he goes mincing by —
It would put a mere artist to flight!
His soft little heart knows no care;
He is fond, he is sweet, he is fair’
His voice has a squeak,
For its timbre is weak;
But, oh, my! his society air?
As he journeys through fashion’s gay street,
So small are his dear little feet,
With his feminine “three,”
Which he wears with such ease,
That his walking is something complete!
The charming Adolphus Le Clare,
Who parts in the middle his hair,
Ne’er racks his poor brains
With deep thought yet sustains
His witching society air!
The Standard (Albert Lea, Minnesota) May 25, 1882