  LITTLE Mistress Sans-Merci Fareth world-wide, fancy free: And her cooing is command— Never ruled there yet, I trow, Mightier despot in the land. And my heart it lieth where Mistress Sans-Merci doth fare. Little Mistress Sans-Merci— She hath made a slave of me! “Go,” she biddeth, and I go— “Come,” and I am fain to come— Be she wroth or frolicsome, Yet am I content to be Slave to Mistress Sans-Merci! Little Mistress Sans-Merci Hath become so dear to me That I count as passing sweet All the pain her moods impart, And I bless the little feet That go trampling on my heart: Ah, how lonely life would be But for little Sans-Merci! Little Mistress Sans-Merci, Cuddle close this night to me, And the heart, which all day long Ruthless thou hast trod upon, For its best belovÈd one— All its tenderness for thee, Little Mistress Sans-Merci! |
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