Or I find myself placidly adding To the rapturous tresses of Rose Miss Dora's bud-mouth, and her madding, Ineffable nose. Was there ever so sad a dilemma? (Whatever might offer to stem); But to make the invidious election To declare that on either one's side I've a scruple-a grain more affection, I can not decide. And as either so hopelessly nice is, To solve me this riddle, conducive Of Dora and Rose. (After-thought.) But, perhaps, if a third (say a Norah), Should appear, is it wrong to suppose― THEY nearly strike me dumb, Pit-a-pat : This palpitation means That these boots are Geraldine's, Think of that. O, where did hunter win So delicate a skin For her feet? You lucky little kid, You perished, so you did, The fairy stitching gleams The Pixies were the wags Who tipped these funny tags What soles to charm an elf! Had Crusoe, sick of self, Chanced to view One printed near the tide, O, how hard he would have tried For the two! Come, Gerry, since it suits These to don, Set this dainty hand awhile Put them on. FREDERICK LOCKER. HERMIONÉ. WHEREVER I Wander, up and about, I have a wife, and she is wise, She writes a little-for love, not fame; |