Then, while he spoke with hands there clasping mine,
And eyes that tired mine own with so much light
Their trembling lids were vext by feeble tears,
Doretta came.
But startled, seeing me,
She only smiled; said: “Haydn, what! awake?—
And you, Pauline?—You good have been, so good;
Nor call’d me; no. How very kind in you!
Why, after all, some little training thus
Might make you like, perhaps, to be a nurse,—