Or I find myself placidly adding To the rapturous tresses of Rose 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, By no means to peace or repose, Of Dora and Rose. (After-thought.) But, perhaps, if a third (say a Norah), 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 What soles to charm an elf! 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 On my shoulder, dear, and I'll Put them on. FREDERICK LOCKER. HERMIONÉ. WHEREVER I wander, up and about, I have a wife, and she is wise, Deep in philosophy, strong in Greek; Spectacles shadow her pretty eyes, Coteries rustle to hear her speak; She writes a little-for love, not fame; |