THE ENGLISH FLAPPER
From Nature's anvil hot she hails,The forge still glowing on her cheek.Untamed as yet, Life still prevailsWithin her breast and fain would speak.
But all the elfs upon the plain,And in the arbour where she lolls,Repeat the impudent refrain;Too young for babes, too old for dolls.
Her fingers deft have guessed the knackOf making each advantage tell:Her hat, her hair still down her back,Her frocks and muff of mighty spell;...
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