Or the first faint breath of a violet;
The life of a man, as it is and was,
Is like autumn leaves decaying and dead,
With a flavour of bad theatrical gas,
And of last night's banquet,' my husband said.
I laugh'd at the gay nonsensical speech,
In my merry pride at being his wife;
I sat at his feet, and I bade him teach
A neophyte out of his noble life.
He mutter'd 'My noble life!' with a frown,