Ad Chloe, M.A. And the rose-flush on your cheek, Perfect are; And that loving lustrous eye You have pouting piquant lips, But for your cerulean hue, If by some arrangement dual I, as wooer, perhaps might come Magistra. 185 Mortimer Collins. CHLOE, M.A. AD AMANTEM SUAM CARELESS rhymer, it is true, To be made a victim, sir, If to puddings I prefer If with giddier girls I play Croquet through the summer day On the turf, Then at night ('tis no great boon) Let me study how the moon Sways the surf. Tennyson's idyllic verse Surely suits me none the worse If I seek Old Sicilian birds and bees- You have said my eyes are blue; It is surely not a sin If I keep my secrets in Violet. Mortimer Collins. THE FAIR MILLINGER By the Watertown Horse-Car Conductor It was a millinger most gay, As sat within her shop; Clean shaven he, of massive mould, He thought his looks was killing her; So lots of stuff to him she sold: "Thanks!" says the millinger. He loafed around and seemed to try The millinger did mind her eye, He tried, then, with his flattering tongue, But she was sharp, though she was young: L The Fair Millinger He asked her to the theatre, They got into my car; Our steeds were tired, could hardly stir, He thought the way not far. A pretty pict-i-ure she made, No doctors had been pilling her; Fairly the fair one's fare he paid: "Thanks!" said the millinger. When we arrived in Bowdoin Square, Then says that millinger so fair: "O, thank you, Mary Ann! "She only is fulfilling her Duty in looking after me: Thanks!" said that millinger. "Why," says that student chap to her, "I won't stand this," says he, "I own That ere much-taken-down young man We got fresh horses, off they ran; He thought the distance far. And now she is my better half, And oft, when coo-and-billing her, 187 Fred W. Loring. TWO FISHERS ONE morning when Spring was in her teens- All tinted in delicate pinks and greens- I in my rough and easy clothes, With my face at the sun-tan's mercy; She with her hat tipped down to her nose, And her nose tipped-vice versa. I with my rod, my reel, and my hooks, And the seine of her golden tresses. So we sat us down on the sunny dike, All the noon I lay in the light of her eyes, But the fish were cunning and would not rise, And when the time of departure came, My bag hung flat as a flounder; But Bessie had neatly hooked her game- Unknown. MAUD NAY, I cannot come into the garden just now, But I must have the next set of waltzes, I vow, Are Women Fair? 189 I am sure you'll be heartily pleas'd when you hear You had better at once hurry home, dear, to bed; You may catch the bronchitis or cold in the head Don't be obstinate, Alfy; come, take my advice- No, I tell you I can't and I shan't get away, If you feel it a pleasure to talk to the flow'rs When you might have been snoring for two or Why, it's not the least business of mine. Henry S. Leigh. ARE WOMEN FAIR? "ARE women fair?" Ay, wondrous fair to see, too. "Are women sweet?" Yea, passing sweet they be, too. Most fair and sweet to them that only love them; Chaste and discreet to all save them that prove them. "Are women wise?" Not wise, but they be witty; "Are women witty?" Yea, the more the pity; They are so witty, and in wit so wily, Though ye be ne'er so wise, they will beguile ye. |