What is flirtation? Really,
How can I tell you that?
But when she smiles I see its wiles,
And when he lifts his hat.
‘ Tis walking in the moonlight,
‘ Tis buttoning on a glove,
‘ Tis lips that speak of plays next week,
While eyes are talking love.
‘ Tis meeting in the ball-room,
‘ Tis whirling in the dance;
‘ Tis something hid beneath the lid
More than a simple glance.
‘ Tis lingering in the hallway,
‘ Tis sitting on the stair,
‘ Tis bearded lips on finger-tips,
If mamma is n't there.
‘ Tis tucking in the carriage,
‘ Tis asking for a call;
‘ Tis long good-nights in tender lights,
And that is — no, not all!
‘ Tis parting when it's over,
And one goes home to sleep;
Best joys must end, tra la, my friend,
But one goes home to weep!