At a quarter to eight. If you won't think it strange,
Wear a rose—I shall know you at sight."
Came Wednesday night, Mr. Lymmington-Blake
To the rendezvous all in a flutter
Himself—in a new suit of clothes—did betake;
And over and over, to save a mistake,
The speech he had thought of did mutter.
He wore a red rose, for he thought it would show
He had taken the matter to heart.
A lady was there. Was it she? Yes, or no?