  Laura ON me he shall ne’er put a ring, So, mamma, ’tis in vain to take trouble— For I was but eighteen in spring, While his age exactly is double. Mamma He’s but in his thirty-sixth year, Tall, handsome, good-natured and witty, And should you refuse him, my dear, May you die an old maid without pity! Laura His figure, I grant you, will pass, And at present he’s young enough plenty; But when I am sixty, alas! Will not he be a hundred and twenty? Charles Graham Halpine. |
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