Denzil place a story in verse. By Violet Fane [i.e. M. M. Lamb] |
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 | Denzil place |  |
To her he was the only link that bound
Her life to what was gay, and fresh, and free
From dull restraint; a dear excuse for youth
And secret romping; he was champion, friend,
And little lover, jealous, wayward, fond,
And brooking no control save from her hand.—
“Oh, had he been my son,” she often thought,
“I could not love him more than now I do.”
(Thus oft these self-anointed mothers speak,
With such a tender tremor in their voice,
They almost think their foolish words are true!)
Her life to what was gay, and fresh, and free
From dull restraint; a dear excuse for youth
And secret romping; he was champion, friend,
And little lover, jealous, wayward, fond,
And brooking no control save from her hand.—
11
“I could not love him more than now I do.”
(Thus oft these self-anointed mothers speak,
With such a tender tremor in their voice,
They almost think their foolish words are true!)
| Denzil place | |