A SONNET IN DIALOGUE.
Frank (on the Lawn).
Come to the Terrace, May,—the sun is low.
May (in the House).
Thanks, I prefer my Browning here instead.
Frank.
There are two peaches by the strawberry bed.
May.
They will be riper if we let them grow.
Frank.
Then the Park-aloe is in bloom, you know.
May.
Also, her Majesty Queen Anne is dead.
Frank.
But surely, May, your pony must be fed.
May.
And was, and is. I fed him hours ago.
'Tis useless, Frank, you see I shall not stir.
Frank.
Still, I had something you would like to hear.
May.
No doubt some new frivolity of men.
Frank.
Nay,—'tis a thing the gentler sex deplores
Chiefly, I think....
May (coming to the window).
What is this secret, then?
Frank (mysteriously).