THERE dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, lady, Was famed for cruel grace of speech; Such eyes did for his heart beseech, Whene'er he deigned to woo he won, Lady! That man the talk of Babylon, Lady, lady, Has left the town...lo! o'er thy cheek Truth spreads; e'en so his blush could speak Response as clear as rising sun, Lady...? Red dawn! and ah! a drenching day Will drown us, might drown Babylon! Lady, poor lady! The rose he stooped o'er pines away; With yon bullfinch her perfume's gone! Lady, poor lady! |