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Collected poems

By Austin Dobson: Ninth edition
  

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476

AFTER WATTEAU

(TO F. W.)
Embarquons-nous !” I seem to go
Against my will. 'Neath alleys low
I bend, and hear across the air—
Across the stream—faint music rare,—
Whose “cornemuse,” whose “chalumeau”?
Hark! was not that a laugh I know?
Who was it, hurrying, turned to show
The galley swinging by the stair?—
Embarquons-nous!”
The silk sail flaps, light breezes blow;
Frail laces flutter, satins flow;
You, with the love-knot in your hair,
Allons, embarquons pour Cythère”;
You will not? Press her, then, Pierrot,—
“Embarquons-nous!”