I'LL FIND YOU OUT.
I
We meet to-night, I do not ask
What gay costume you mean to wear,
Your eyes will peep through veil and mask,
And tell who lurks in ambush there.
Ay, close your eyes, and stain your cheek,
Do what you will to make me doubt—
You must be dumb, for should you speak
One little word, I'll find you out!
II
If as a Savoyard you trip,
Your pretty foot my clue will be.
In Gypsy rags, your fingers' tip
Will point my own love out to me:
Beneath a Nun's monastic veil
I know your ruby lip will pout;
Disguise with you is sure to fail,
Wear what you will, I'll find you out!