 | Rhymes with reason and without |  |
306
VIII.
IN STRANGE COMPANY.
'Twas in a 'bus we met, Thanksgiving Day,And side by side we sat, and we alone!
The driver did n't see us from his throne,
And everybody looked the other way.
But she was chaste as ice, and pure as snow,
And I could vow, though I knew not her name,
Reproach ne'er dared to meddle with her fame,—
I pride myself a virtuous dame to know.
She sweetly whispered me that she felt giddy,
And, with a gentle motion most divine,
She laid the whitest little hand on mine,
And sat up closer, just to keep her steady.
Such confidence as this you'll rarely meet
In earth's unsocial round;—it was a treat!
| Rhymes with reason and without | |