It's plain that the pictures don't please;
And there, with an aspect serener,
Her Highness the Princess Louise.
The Haunt of the very æsthetic,
Here come the supremely intense,
The long-haired and hyper-poetic
Whose sound is mistaken for sense.
And many a maiden will mutter,
When Oscar looms large on her sight,
"He's quite too consummately utter,