As the stream of Art and Nature went along.
But I brought away one image, from that fashionable scrimmage,
Of a figure and a face—ah, such a face!
Love has photograph'd the features of that loveliest of creatures
On my memory, as Love alone can trace.
Did I hate the little dandy in the whiskers, (they were sandy,)
Whose absurd salute was honour'd by a smile?
Did I marvel at his rudeness in presuming on her goodness,
When she evidently loathed him all the while!
Oh the hours that I have wasted, the regrets that I have tasted,