The lying lines between,
Of blokes who bruise with hob-nailed feet
Love’s field of evergreen—
The car wherein your goddess drives
May be Aspasia’s car!”
I hit him solid, fair and square,
And left the wastrel lying there—
That bloke from Mullingar.
[153]
]ONLY A KISS.
“I shan’t,” cried the maiden, “I shan’t!”