 | The Solitary, and other poems |  |
He goes, and the poor witless girl
Draws up her lip in a proud curl,
And says, “Well done!” and with mock ire,
Commands the scrivener to admire,
Then pours such tales into his ear,
As almost craze the listener.
Draws up her lip in a proud curl,
And says, “Well done!” and with mock ire,
Commands the scrivener to admire,
Then pours such tales into his ear,
As almost craze the listener.
| The Solitary, and other poems | |