A little book of tribune verse A number of hitherto uncollected poems, grave and gay |
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AN ORTHOGRAPHICAL FANCY. |
 | A little book of tribune verse |  |
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AN ORTHOGRAPHICAL FANCY.
With tragic air, the love lorn heir
Once chased the chaste Louise;
She quickly guessed her guest was there
To please her with his pleas.
Once chased the chaste Louise;
She quickly guessed her guest was there
To please her with his pleas.
Now at her side he kneeling sighed,
His sighs of woeful size,
“Oh hear me here, for lo! most low
I rise before your eyes.
His sighs of woeful size,
“Oh hear me here, for lo! most low
I rise before your eyes.
“This soul is sole thine own, Louise,
'Twill never wean, I ween,
The love that I, aye e'er shall feel,
Though mean may be its mein.”
'Twill never wean, I ween,
The love that I, aye e'er shall feel,
Though mean may be its mein.”
“You know I cannot tell you no,”
The maid made answer true,
“I love you aught, as sure I ought,
To you 'tis due I do!”
The maid made answer true,
“I love you aught, as sure I ought,
To you 'tis due I do!”
“Since you are won, O fairest one!
The marriage rite is right,
The chapel aisle I'll lead you up
This night!” exclaimed the knight.
The marriage rite is right,
The chapel aisle I'll lead you up
This night!” exclaimed the knight.
January 20th, 1882.
| A little book of tribune verse | |