And I would I were certain which of the pair
Were the truer type of my soul!
To My Lady
Twine, lanken fingers, lily-lithe,
Gleam, slanted eyes, all beryl-green,
Pout, blood-red lips that burst a-writhe,
Then—kiss me, Lady Grisoline!
The Monster
Uprears the monster now his slobberous head,
Its filamentous chaps her ankles brushing;