(With deep bows to Adelaide Anne Proctor's heirs,
administrators and assigns.)
Before I trust my Fate to thee,
Or place my hand in thine--
(This is an easy parody,
Without a change of line.)
Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night for me.
Is there, within thy dimmest dreams,
This dread ambition, Myrt?
Hast thou the ghost of a desire
To wear a hobble[Footnote: "Harem," or whatever is to come in the future,
may be substituted here.] skirt?
If so, at any pain or cost, oh, tell me before all is lost.
Look deeper still. Dost underline
Most words in writing letters?
Or "Local" write on envelopes?
Say, ere I bind my fetters.
Let no false pity spare the blow, but in true mercy tell me so.
Once more. Dost thou, in easy speech,
Ever let fall "those kind"?
Art thou to nutmeg in a pie
Unalterably inclined?
If aught of these, maid of my wooing, there's absolutely nothing doing.
