We studied hard in our styles, Chipped each at a crust like Hindoos, For air, looked out on the tiles, For fun watched each other's windows.

You lounged, like a boy of the South, Cap and blouse--nay, a bit of beard too; Or you got it rubbing your mouth With fingers the clay adhered to.

And I--soon managed to find Weak points in the flower-fence facing, Was forced to put up a blind And be safe in my corset-lacing.

No harm! It was not my fault If you never turned your eyes' tail up, As I shook upon E _in alt._, Or ran the chromatic scale up:

For spring bade the sparrows pair, And the boys and girls gave guesses, And stalls in our streets looked rare With bulrush and watercresses.

Why did not you pinch a flower In a pellet of clay and fling it?

Why did I not put a power Of thanks in a look, or sing it?

I did look, sharp as a lynx, (And yet the memory rankles,) When models arrived, some minx Tripped up-stairs, she and her ankles.

But I think I gave you as good!

"That foreign fellow--who can know How she pays, in a playful mood, For his tuning her that piano?"

Could you say so, and never say, "Suppose we join hands and fortunes, And I fetch her from over the way, Her, piano, and long tunes and short tunes?"

No, no; you would not be rash, Nor I rasher and something over: You've to settle yet Gibson's hash, And Grisi yet lives in clover.

But you meet the Prince at the Board, I'm queen myself at _bals-pare_, I've married a rich old lord, And you're dubbed knight and an R. A.

Each life's unfulfilled, you see; It hangs still, patchy and sc.r.a.ppy: We have not sighed deep, laughed free, Starved, feasted, despaired--been happy.

And n.o.body calls you a dunce, And people suppose me clever: This could but have happened once, And we missed it, lost it forever.

_Robert Browning._

BACHELOR'S DREAM

My pipe is lit, my grog is mixed, My curtains drawn and all is snug; Old Puss is in her elbow-chair, And Tray is sitting on the rug.

Last night I had a curious dream, Miss Susan Bates was Mistress Mogg-- What d'ye think of that, my cat?

What d'ye think of that, my dog?

She looked so fair, she sang so well, I could but woo and she was won; Myself in blue, the bride in white, The ring was placed, the deed was done!

Away we went in chaise-and-four.

As fast as grinning boys could flog-- What d'ye think of that, my cat?

What d'ye think of that, my dog?

At times we had a spar, and then Mamma must mingle in the song-- The sister took a sister's part-- The maid declared her master wrong-- The parrot learned to call me "Fool!"

My life was like a London fog-- What d'ye think of that, my cat?

What d'ye think of that, my dog?

My Susan's taste was superfine, As proved by bills that had no end; _I_ never had a decent coat-- _I_ never had a coin to spend!

She forced me to resign my club, Lay down my pipe, retrench my grog-- What d'ye think of that, my cat?

What d'ye think of that, my dog?

Each Sunday night we gave a rout To fops and flirts, a pretty list; And when I tried to steal away, I found my study full of whist!

Then, first to come, and last to go, There always was a Captain Hogg-- What d'ye think of that, my cat?

What d'ye think of that, my dog?

Now was not that an awful dream For one who single is and snug-- With p.u.s.s.y in the elbow chair, And Tray reposing on the rug?-- If I must totter down the hill, 'Tis safest done without a clog-- What d'ye think of that, my cat?

What d'ye think of that, my dog?

_Thomas Hood._

ALL THINGS EXCEPT MYSELF I KNOW

I know when milk does flies contain; I know men by their bravery; I know fair days from storm and rain; And what fruit apple-trees supply; And from their gums the trees descry; I know when all things smoothly flow; I know who toil or idle lie; All things except myself I know.

I know the doublet by the grain; The monk beneath the hood can spy; Master from man can ascertain; I know the nun's veiled modesty; I know when sportsmen fables ply; Know fools who creams and dainties stow; Wine from the b.u.t.t I certify; All things except myself I know.

Know horse from mule by tail and mane; I know their worth or high or low; Bell, Beatrice, I know the twain; I know each chance of cards and dice; I know what visions prophesy, Bohemian heresies, I trow; I know men of each quality; All things except myself I know.

ENVOY

Prince, I know all things 'neath the sky, Pale cheeks from those of rosy glow; I know death whence can no man fly; All things except myself I know.

_Francois Villon._

THE JOYS OF MARRIAGE

How uneasy is his life, Who is troubled with a wife!

Be she ne'er so fair or comely, Be she ne'er so foul or homely, Be she ne'er so young and toward, Be she ne'er so old and froward, Be she kind, with arms enfolding, Be she cross, and always scolding, Be she blithe or melancholy, Have she wit, or have she folly, Be she wary, be she squandering, Be she staid, or be she wandering, Be she constant, be she fickle, Be she fire, or be she ickle; Be she pious or unG.o.dly, Be she chaste, or what sounds oddly: Lastly, be she good or evil, Be she saint, or be she devil,-- Yet, uneasy is his life Who is married to a wife.

_Charles Cotton._

THE THIRD PROPOSITION

If I were thine, I'd fail not of endeavour The loftiest, To make thy daily life, now and forever, Supremely blest-- I'd watch thy moods, I'd toil and wait, with yearning, Incessant incense at thy dear shrine burning, If I were thine.