Beyond Debate

Out from the wrought-iron gate Miss Perdee drives in state; Miss Perdee wears the thin smile And the sleeves of 1888.

Miss Perdee's face is stifled as a sonnet; Upon her wire-tight hair a duck-shaped bonnet Nests, nodding with a cachepeigne Of violets on it.

East Bay, some tea and talk, them home by King. The horses have an antiquated plod; The team is old, but not too old to balk If driven north of Broad.

Miss Perdee wears the sure air of a queen, Which only queens and Perdees can achieve. The Perdees had blue blood in Adam's veins When Adam had the rib he gave to Eve.

Back through the wrought-iron gate Miss Perdee drives in state. Miss Perdee lives down on the Battery! Beyond debate.

H.A.