page 33

Miss 1926

The journalistic world intends
By means of competition,
To seek in unsuspected ways
A beauty with ambition.

Each day I try to classify
The types in the "Dominion,"
To ascertain which satisfy
The modern world's opinion.

This nose (I hear) but not this ear
Its an abomination!
And Eton crop and tousled mop
In turn find admiration.

But where is Cleopatra's brow?
Fair Rosamund, your fears
That men to-day would disavow
Fair charms, excuse your tears.

And where is Mary Queen of Scots?
(The artists all adored her,
Tho' scape-goat in a petticoat,
She fled across the border).

The ghost of Queen Victoria
Stirs in the grave with fright.
"I do declare, a naked ear!
What a disgusting sight!"

The Grecian fain is out of date,
And Dante's dream beyond repair—
Behold the "boyish silhouette,"
The sleeveless arm and shingled hair.

There are no Walter Raleighs now
To lay their velvet in the mire—
There are no skirts to justify
The soiling of their neat attire.

Where, once, a dainty slippered foot
Peeps shyly from the graceful folds
Of blue brocade and flowery chintz,
The average person now beholds
Substantial looking legs and feet
Walking boldly down the street.

—D.H.