It's oh! to be in the grave,
Where hope's false dream is not,
Where doubts ne'er rise to bedim the eyes,
If this is woman's lot!
Here follow nine more verses in an equally plaintive style, and of no particular interest.
From The Figaro, February 28, 1874.
THE SONG OF THE CRAM.
With fingers trembling and warm,
With eyelids heavy and red,