But like me, she had her day; I saw her dove-like eyes
Turn into the look of a hunted doe at bay;
When a haughty beauty with her dark, bold gaze,
Won his fickle heart from the English lass away.
And she holds him well; I fancy no “dream” will come,
No “holy revelation” he fears to wrong,
Bidding him take a fourth wife to his home;
She has a will that, if not saintly, is strong.
I am glad the pretty English flower is at rest