"A prologue!" I made answer; "if you need one, In every street and square your Grace may read one."
"Cruel Papa! don't talk about Sir Harry!" So Araminta lisped; - "I'll never marry;
I loathe all men; such unromantic creatures! The coarsest tastes, and ah! the coarsest features! Betty! the salts! - I'm sick with mere vexa
To hear them called the Lords of the Creation:
They swear fierce oaths, they seldom say their
And then, they shed no tears,
I, and the friend I share my sorrows with, Medora Gertrude Wilhelmina Smith,
Will weep together through the world's disasters, In some green vale, unplagued by Lords and
And hand in hand repose at last in death, As chaste and cold as Queen Elizabeth." She spoke in May, and people found in June, This was her Prologue to the Honeymoon!
But lo! where Laura, with a frenzied air, Seeks her kind cousin in her pony chair, And, in a mournful voice, by thick sobs broke Cries, "Yes, dear Anne! the favours are bespoke, I am to have him; - so my friends decided; The stars knew quite as much of it as I did! You know him, love; - he is so like a mummy:- I wonder whether diamonds will become me! He talks of nothing but the price of stocks; However, I'm to have my opera box.
Enough of prologues; surely I should say One word, before I go, about the play. Instead of hurrying madly after marriage To some lord's villa in a travelling carriage, Instead of seeking earth's remotest ends
To hide their blushes and avoid their friends, 60 Instead of haunting lonely lanes and brooks With no companions but the doves and rooks, Our Duke and Duchess open wide their Hall, And bid you warmly welcome, one and all, Who come with hearts of kindness, eyes of light,
To see, and share, their Honeymoon to-night.
Nor ever shall he be, in praise, by wise or good forsaken;
What are we set on earth for? Say, to toil Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines, For all the heat o' the day, till it declines, And Death's mild curfew shall from work assoil. God did anoint thee with His odorous oil, To wrestle, not to reign; and He assigns All thy tears over, like pure crystallines, For younger fellow-workers of the soil To wear for amulets. So others shall Take patience, labour, to their heart and hand 10 From thy hand, and thy heart, and thy brave cheer, And God's grace fructify through thee to all. The least flower, with a brimming cup, may stand And share its dew-drop with another near.
True genius, but true woman! dost deny Thy woman's nature with a manly scorn, And break away the gauds and armlets worn By weaker women in captivity?
Ah, vain denial! that revolted cry
Is sobbed in by a woman's voice forlorn: Thy woman's hair, my sister, all unshorn, Floats back dishevelled strength in agony, Disproving thy man's name: and while before The world thou burnest in a poet fire, We see thy woman's heart beat evermore Through the large flame. Beat purer, heart, and higher,
Till God unsex thee on the heavenly shore, Where unincarnate spirits purely aspire!
A MAN'S REQUIREMENTS
Love me, sweet, with all thou art, Feeling, thinking, seeing,— Love me in the lightest part, Love me in full being.
Love me with thine open youth
In its frank surrender; With the vowing of thy mouth, With its silence tender.
Love me with thine azure eyes, Made for earnest granting! Taking colour from the skies,
Can Heaven's truth be wanting?
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