VIII.

The dinner and the soirée too were done,

The supper too discussed, the dames admired,

The banqueteers had dropped off one by one—

The song was silent, and the dance expired:

The last thin petticoats were vanished, gone

Like fleecy clouds into the sky retired,

And nothing brighter gleamed through the saloon

Than dying tapers—and the peeping moon.

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