And with its sweetness all the night endow'th.
O beauteous rose! O shrub without a thorn!
O velvet petals unsmutched of the mire!
For this my life was manifestly born,
To climb toward thy lips, and never tire!
Now ope thy shutter in the flood of mom—
Lean out, and smile, and pluck thy heart's desire.
“Seems strange,” said Harry, “that a man can buy a good meal with a thing like that!”
“What is a petrarch, anyway?” said Jack. “Gee, you'll have to brush your hair to keep it out of your eyebrows,” said Harry. “Herod was petrarch of Galilee, don't you remember? It's a kind of comptroller or efficiency expert.”
“Nonsense,” said Harry. “Herod was patriarch of Galilee, not petrarch.”