The Girl Cousin

Winter has its pleasures; and often, on Sunday,

When the pale earth is yellowed with a bit of sunray,

With a girl cousin you go out for a walk...

—And don’t you make us wait our dinner till you’re back,

Says the mother. And when at the Tuileries

You’ve seen the flowered dresses beneath the darkling trees,

The little girl is cold... and gives you to surmise

That the evening fog commences to arise.

And you return, talking of the day thus sweet,

Which has gone so fast... and with flame discreet:

And you smell coming in, with a big appetite,

At the foot of the stairs,—the turkey roasted right.

Gérard de Nerval