E XCE RPT E D FRO M
THE CONGÉ
(1867)
By Kate Chopin (SH-St. Louis, 1868) American author The Congé is past and the frolic and fun Was over, before it seemed scarcely begun; For with playing and romping and teasing away, The quick fleeting hours soon filled up the day. …But all these howe’er beautiful sink into nought, In considering the fun which the afternoon brought; For through cellar and basement and garret so high, We tumbled and tossed in the game of “I spy.” Now into the barnyard—the loft or the stable, Hiding in every place—any place that we were able; And thrown into ecstasies of foolish delight At not being found or at seeking aright. …But at length Sister M. with mysterious air, Comes whispering that the girls must prepare To enter a room, shut out from all light, To see a strange thing—a most wonderful sight; …’Twas a strange magic lantern which displayed a queer sight Of devils in every conceivable plight. Of hills and volcanoes; St. Peter’s at Rome; Of Pantheons at Paris—or a neat cottage home. Of monkies and tigers and elephants rare— All displayed with precision and mentioned with care…
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