THE PRINCESS IN SATURN.
And then, "If you honestly wish," they said,
"To marry a man who is painted red"
(In Saturn, I ween,
All the people are green),
"We don't know that there's anything more to be said,—
Your Highness, there seems nothing more to be said."
So they called a comet, and told him to go
To the Red Man in Mars, and give him to know
That a princess in Saturn,
Of virtues the pattern,
Desired to marry him, whether or no,—
Was determined to marry him, whether or no.
Away whizzed the comet, and soon he came
To the Red Man in Mars, and called him by name.
And telling his news,
Begged him not to refuse
To send back an answer at once to the same,—
"Just you make up your mind in regard to the same!"
But the Red Man sighed, and mournfully said,
"My friend, 'tis our law that all wives must be red;
And if I should be seen
With a wife who is green,
Our king would be apt at removing my head,—
Not a moment he'd lose in removing my head.
"But if the young lady (who's surely most kind),
Could in any way make up her princessly mind
To turn herself red,
It need hardly be said
That a lover devoted in me she would find,—
That a husband adoring in me she would find."
The comet whizzed back with the answer again,
And the kings and the princes received it with pain.
"Sure, the princess's green
Has so brilliant a sheen,
That the thought of a change is exceedingly vain,—
The idea of a change is prepost'rously vain."
But when the princess this message heard,
She said, "I see nothing in this that's absurd."
Then to blush she began;
And she blushed till the Man
In Mars was less ruddy by half, on my word,—
Less red by a generous half, on my word!
She blushed over cheek and lip and brow,
From her fair little head to her trim little toe.
And her hat and her shoe,
And her farthingale too,
They blushed just as red as herself, I vow,—
They blushed for the love of herself, I vow.