One who adores thee reverently, who holds
Of love, as I, and with some special fancy:—
He is quite a poet.—Why, now, shouldst thou smile?
Thou hast no taste in poetry, but suppose
St. Nicholas had lacked that inner sight,
Had fancied thee merely because he thought thee
A fine girl, and had used the common tricks
Of odious trifling, till he dared to kiss thee,
And meet thee alone, and put his arm about thee....
L. Good heavens, Diana! I hope you do not think