Is there no method to tell her in Spanish

June’s twice June since she breathed it with me?

Come, bud, show me the least of her traces,

Treasure my lady’s lightest footfall!

—Ah, you may flout and turn up your faces—

Roses, you are not so fair after all!

Robert Browning.

A POEM OF EVERY-DAY LIFE

HE tore him from the merry throng

Within the billiard hall;