XXI.

Homeward returning, he at home

Is occupied with Olga fair,

An album, fly-leaf of the tome,

He leisurely adorns for her.

Landscapes thereon he would design,

A tombstone, Aphrodite's shrine,

Or, with a pen and colours fit,

A dove which on a lyre doth sit;

The "in memoriam" pages sought,

Where many another hand had signed

A tender couplet he combined,

A register of fleeting thought,

A flimsy trace of musings past

Which might for many ages last.

XXII.

Surely ye all have overhauled

A country damsel's album trim,

Which all her darling friends have scrawled

From first to last page to the rim.

Behold! orthography despising,

Metreless verses recognizing

By friendship how they were abused,

Hewn, hacked, and otherwise ill-used.

Upon the opening page ye find:

Qu'ecrirer-vouz sur ces tablettes?

Subscribed, toujours a vous, Annette;

And on the last one, underlined:

Who in thy love finds more delight

Beyond this may attempt to write.

XXIII.

Infallibly you there will find

Two hearts, a torch, of flowers a wreath,

And vows will probably be signed:

Affectionately yours till death.