The lips to wine, if not to love,
A trifle too obedient.
This weed I call the "herb of grace."
My reasons are, as some one says,
"Between me and my fireplace."
Ophelia spoke of rue, you know.
"There's rue for you and there's for me,
But you must wear it differently."
Quite true, of course.—Your pipe I see
Draws hard. They sometimes do, you know.