To say when her own adorer may aspire to call her bride!
Then, the days of courtship over, with your WIFE to start for Dover
Or Dieppe—and live in clover evermore, what e'er befalls;
For I've read in many a novel that, unless they've souls that grovel
Folks prefer in fact a hovel to your dreary marble halls.
To sit, happy married lovers; Phillis trifling with a plover's
Egg, while Corydon uncovers with a grace the Sally Lunn,
Or dissects the lucky pheasant—that, I think, were passing pleasant,
As I sit alone at present, dreaming darkly of a Dun.
C. S. Calverley.