A Jersey Idyl.
Night after night a witching sprite,
Outside among the roses,
Sings lullabies; but to my eyes
Her form she ne'er discloses.
She hides away the livelong day,
And keeps herself secluded;
To reach her side in vain I've tried;
My efforts she's eluded.
She seemed so coy; but to my joy,
At last, by chance, I met her.
The fair unknown is now my own,
And soon I'll not forget her.
Last evening she encouraged me—
My triumph is complete, oh;
I own 'twas rash—I made a mash
Of pretty, young Miss Quito.
—Wasp.