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Two persons we may feel quite sure
Found that the morning air was pure,
And wondered why folks slept away
The nicest two hours in the day,
Lil and her lover. Lil was drest,
As suited the occasion best,
In the same gossamery white
Which first on Christmas-day saw light.
The morn was young and so was she
And both were fresh as fresh can be:
'Twas early summer in the year
And early summer too in her,
And nothing looks so apposite
To early summer as pure white.
He picked some fresh forget-me-not
For her to wreath about her throat
And now, as then, her slender waist
With a broad pale blue sash was laced.
Unless to scepticism slave,
Behold an instance of brain-wave.
For ere their blithe good-night they bade
No word had Lil or Cobham said
Of early rising. Yet they both,
Though as a rule extremely loath
To quit their bed's society,
Were up in time to see the sky

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Grey with the promise of the dawn
And the dew sparkling on the lawn,
Each speculating on the chance
Of a praeprandial romance.
Had she been roguishly inclined
She might have tried her lover's mind
Being ‘en rapport’ of the plot
And how t'would end, which he was not.
But Lil was open as the day
And rushed to him with glad “we may,”
As soon as they were face to face
Lending herself to his embrace,
With some soft blushes as protest,
And toss of her dishevelled crest
When it was over. “Yes, we may,”
Repeated she, nor drew away
Her waist from his endearing arm,
But yielded to the subtle charm,
Which gentle women oft confess,
Of feeling her own helplessness.
“Last night, when we good-night had said,
Before my father came to bed,
I called my mother and disclosed
The solemn fact that you'd proposed
And I'd accepted wedded bliss,
Subject to her consent and his,
And begged the question of her own
By confidently going on
And asking her to intercede
With Father and my cause to plead.
Which she so eloquently did

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That he consented, subject to
A satisfactory talk with you.
And—was not dear old mother kind?—
She stole to me to ease my mind
With the good news before she turned
T' enjoy the sleep she'd so well earned.
“Father would like it, if you'd walk
With him to church, to have the talk.
He says that both of you will be
Just twice as easy and as free,
If you are in the open air,
As cooped up in his study there,
And that the motion will inspire
Your words with swing if not with fire.
I'm sure he will not be severe,
But if he is, be patient dear,
And talk him over—as you can
If you are as expert with man.”