Explore "The Hand-Organ Ball" by Joseph C. Lincoln on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When Twilight her soft robe of shadow spreads down. / And hushed is the roar and the din, / When Evening is cooling the sweltering town, / 'Tis then that the frolics begin; / And up in dim "Finnegan's Court," on the pavement, / Shut in by the loom of the tenement's wall, / 'Neath the swinging arc-light, on a warm summer's night, / They gather to dance at the hand-organ ball.
'Tis not a society function, you see, / But quite an informal affair; / The costumes are varied, yet simple and free, / And gems are exceedingly rare; / The ladies are gowned in their calicoes, fetching, / And coatless and cool are the gentlemen, all. / In a jacket, they say, one's not rated _au fait_ / By the finicky guests at the hand-organ ball.