 | Rhymes with reason and without |  |
XXVII.
LIPS.
I saw a rose-bud 'twixt a maiden's lips,—Borrowing new beauties from its ruby throne,
And adding them to graces of its own,—
A bud the like the wild bee oftenest sips.
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A better fragrance than the bud possessed,
And, as it rested on its station blest,
'T was joy to see their mutual beauties blend.
O, lips and roses! Once upon a time,—
A kissing party 't was,—I “forfeit” paid,
And kissed a somewhat antiquated maid,
Whom Providence had spared to mourn her prime.
Her breath made serious that playful jest,
Exhaled o'er gums not “Araby's the blest.”
| Rhymes with reason and without | |