It is not that. But if I went,
Without my dear Mama’s consent,
And she should somehow chance to hear,
She would be dreadfully severe;
And so, oh, dear! it is no use!
Believe me,
Sadly yours, Blanche Goose.
P. S.—On second thoughts, dear Fox,
I’ll meet you by the hollyhocks,
For if Mama but knew how kind
You are, I’m sure she would not mind,
To-morrow, then—we’ll meet at three;
Don’t fail to be there. Yours,
B. G.
III.
FROM MR. RUFUS FOX TO HIS COUSIN REYNARD.
Friday.
Dear Cousin, just a line
To ask if you will come to dine
(Informally, you know) with me
To-morrow afternoon at three.
Now don’t refuse, whate’er you do,
I have a treat in store for you:
A charming goose (and geese, you know,
Do not on all the bushes grow!)
A dream of tenderness in white,
A case of “hunger at first sight.”
I know, old boy, you’ll not be deaf
To this inducement.
Yours,
R. F.