'AGE CANNOT WITHER HER'

(from Punch, 28th March 1906).

Demurely full of girlish tricks
And dimpled with a pouting smile,
The modern crone of sixty-six
Must now be reckoned juvenile.
Her pearly teeth and satin cheek
Are made to match her youthful brow,
And only ill-bred persons speak
About the middle ages now.

Oh! Mrs.A. and Madame X.,
Who boom the Bond Street beauty cult,
To think that for such trifling cheques
You guarantee this brave result.
How do those operating hands
Restore 'lost tone' to wrinkled dames,
And fit the fashion that demands
Old pictures in enamelled frames?

Should any lady think her hair
Suggests too much the autumn tints,
She does not in the least despair,
But follows your attractive hints.
By apt adulteration's aid
Some artful spirit brings again
The latest fashionable shade-
A rare oasis in the plain.

Those subtle touches never fail
To smooth away the marriage-lines;
The sallow cheek so sere and pale,
A guinea rouge incarnadines;
And oh, how sweet must be the thrill
That penetrates a grateful soul,
When the divine electric drill
Eradicates some horrid mole!

To what a pitch of high content
That matron's ardent spirits rose,
When the 'Proboscis' instrument
Equiped her with a Grecian nose!
And how some hearts have yearned to buy
Those patent 'Straps' for flabby skins,
That not uncharitably try
To hide a multitude of chins.

Nor does the mode in which your days
Are spent, dear ladies, cause offence;
To thoughtful minds your latest phase
Betrays the hand of Providence;
For though this beauty-culture fad
Has gone, perhaps, a bit too far,
T'would make the brightest of us sad
To see you as you really are!