  BEHIND the curtain, With glance uncertain, Peeps pet Florence as I gaily ride; Half demurely, But, though purely Most, most surely Wishing she were riding, riding by my side. In leafy alleys, Where sunlight dallies, Pleasant were it, bonnie, to be riding rein by rein; And where summer tosses, All about in bosses, Velvet verdant mosses, Still more pleasant, surely, to dismount again. O thou Beauty! Hanging ripe and fruity At the muslined lattice in the drooping eve, Whisper from the casement If that blushing face meant, “At the cottage basement, Gallant, halt, I come to thee; I come to never leave.” But if those coy lashes Stir for whoso dashes Close the lattice, sweetest; Darkness were discreetest; And, with bridle fleetest, I will gallop onwards, unattended through the night. Alfred Austin. |
|
