Read "On the Decline of Gentility Among the Young. (Suggested by Mr. Max Beerbohm)" by Harry Graham online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
O youth uncouth, who slouchest by, / Along the crowded public street, / An eyeglass in thy languid eye, / Brown boots upon thy feet, / A loose umbrella in thy grip, / A toothpick pendent from thy lip.
Much I deplore thy clumsy gait, / Thy drab sartorial display, / So wholly inappropriate / To this august highway; / How can a man in such attire / Set any spinster's heart on fire?
Thou art in dress no epicure, / By weight of fashions overladen; / Thy tawdry togs do not allure / The soul of every maiden; / They sound no echoing color-note / To her tempestuous petticoat.
Her stylish skirt, her dainty blouse, / Are crepe-de-chine, or bombazine[2]; / Compare the texture of thy trous: / With _their_ chromatic sheen; / To what abysm of taste we reach / By the Observance of thy Breech!
Think what she pays her _modiste_ for / Those hats of questionable shapes, / Surmounted by a seagull or / Some imitation grapes! / Small wonder she receives a shock / Each time she views thy "billycock"!
Observe how like an autumn leaf / The colors of the male canary, / The garb of each New Zealand chief / Who woos his Little Maori; / The savage mind has thus designed / A dress to please its womankind.
And tho' I would not have thee go / As far as primal man or beast, / To lovely woman thou should'st show / _Some_ deference at least, / And give a thought of what to wear / Upon the public thoroughfare.
And should'st thou wish to walk aright, / Let Mr. Beerbohm be thy mould; / Sedate yet courtly, and polite / As any beau of old; / Yea, plant thy footsteps in the tracks / Of our inimitable Max!
Enclose thy larynx in a stock / (As though afflicted with the fever); / And in the place of "billycock" / Procure a bristling "beaver"; / And practise, not I hope in vain, / The "conduct of a clouded cane."
If thou consentest thus to act, / In scorn of popular convention, / Thy bearing shall indeed attract / Much feminine attention; / As day by day, in brilliant hue, / Thy figure fills Fifth Avenue.
[2] Impossible. -- Publishers' Reader. / These ones were. -- H. G.