 | May Fair |  |
Let moralists say what they will,
They'll never make the world stand still.
If eyes are made the soul to pierce,
You'll have them at their carte and tierce:
If Nature whispers them, “Be killing,”
Manslaughter is but law-fulfilling.
Thus circled, by the deadliest belles,
I never try to break their spells.
By Cupid's shots eternal mangled,
Am thirty times a month entangled;
And though by mamma's under ban,
That blacksheep “not a marrying man,”
The first bright eye that says “Deliver!”
Has all the heart I have to give her.
They'll never make the world stand still.
If eyes are made the soul to pierce,
You'll have them at their carte and tierce:
39
Manslaughter is but law-fulfilling.
Thus circled, by the deadliest belles,
I never try to break their spells.
By Cupid's shots eternal mangled,
Am thirty times a month entangled;
And though by mamma's under ban,
That blacksheep “not a marrying man,”
The first bright eye that says “Deliver!”
Has all the heart I have to give her.
| May Fair | |