But Haydn liked this not, would ward it off,
And turn her chafing overcharge of nerve
From tongue to foot, with “Here, Doretta, imp!
You cannot climb the ledge,” or “leap the brook,”
Or “find the flowers”;—then bending down to me,
Say: “I abhor our German prudery.
We too should walk alone, or else have four,
Or six. When two agree they make a match.
A third is but a wedge with which to split
The two apart.”