EVENING threw soberer hue Over the blue sky, and the few Poplars that grew just in the view Of the Hall of Sir Hugo de Wynkle: "Answer me true," pleaded Sir Hugh, (Striving some hardhearted maiden to woo,) "What shall I do, Lady, for you? 'Twill be done, ere your eye may twinkle. Shall I borrow the wand of a Moorish enchanter, And bid a decanter contain the Levant, or The brass from the face of a Mormonite ranter? Shall I go for the mule of the Spanish Infantar -- (That @3r,@1 for the sake of the line, we must grant her,) -- And race with the foul fiend, and beat in a canter, Like that first of equestrians Tam o' Shanter? I talk not mere banter -- say not that I can't, or By this @3my first@1 -- (a Virginia planter Sold it me to kill rats) -- I will die instanter." The Lady bended her ivory neck, and Whispered mournfully, "Go for -- @3my second."@1 She said, and the red from Sir Hugh's cheek fled, And "Nay," did he say, as he stalked away The fiercest of injured men: "Twice have I humbled my haughty soul, And on bended knee have I pressed @3my whole@1 -- But I never will press it again!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEMOIR OF A PROUD BOY by CARL SANDBURG THE LITTLE MILLINER by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN THE OTHER SIDE OF A MIRROR by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE LIFE [AND THE FLOWERS] by GEORGE HERBERT THE LEADING OF SORROW by MATHILDE BLIND |