 | Heliconundrums |  |
One guest, yet undescribed, sat Belle beside:
A gentle youth, mustached and tender-eyed,
Of nice behaviour, in his Sunday's best.
How came he there we will not make iuquest
At present. Ere the plausive echoes died,
Was it a blush Belle sought to hide
That made her turn away?
Or something in those youthful eyes
That met her own sweet thought,
Whereat she started as with shamed surprise?
That start the Sister caught,
And at her word the gentle youngster brought
And sang as a true lover ought
A gentle youth, mustached and tender-eyed,
Of nice behaviour, in his Sunday's best.
How came he there we will not make iuquest
At present. Ere the plausive echoes died,
Was it a blush Belle sought to hide
That made her turn away?
Or something in those youthful eyes
That met her own sweet thought,
Whereat she started as with shamed surprise?
That start the Sister caught,
And at her word the gentle youngster brought
And sang as a true lover ought
| Heliconundrums | |