Per Aspera Ad Astra.

A canvas-back duck, rarely roasted, between us, A bottle of Chambertin, worthy of praise— Less noble a wine at our age would bemean us— A salad of celery en mayonnaise, With the oysters we've eaten, fresh, plump, and delicious, Naught left of them now but a dream and the shells; No better souper e'en Lucullus could wish us— Why, even our waiter regards us as swells. Your dress is a marvel, your jewels show finely, Your friends in the circle all envied your box; You say Lilli Lehman sang quite too divinely— I know I can't lose on that last deal in stocks. Without waits our footman to call for our carriage— Gad, how he must hate us, out there in the cold!— We rode in a hack on the day of our marriage, Number two forty-six—I was rolling in gold, For I'd quite fifty dollars; and don't you remember We drove down to Taylor's, a long cherished dream: How grandly I ordered—just think, in December!— Some cake, and two plates of vanilla ice-cream. And how we enjoyed it! Your glance was the proudest Among the proud beauties, your face the most fair; I'm rather afraid, too, your laugh was the loudest; I know we shocked every one—we didn't care. Now we'd care a great deal—with two sons at college, And daughters just out, whose sneers make you wince, We've tasted the fruit of Society's knowledge— I don't think we've quite enjoyed anything since. All through, dear? Now, don't wipe your mouth with the doily! They're really not careful at all with their wine; It wasn't half warmed—the salad was oily— And I don't think the duck was remarkably fine.