On the moorland, by the waters he was really very nice;
There was no one else at hand, and I—forgot Mamma's advice.
He indulged in rosy raptures, heaved the most suggestive sighs,
Said the very prettiest things about my lips and hazel eyes.
All his talk was most poetic, all his sentiments were grand,
Though his meaning, I confess, I did not always understand.
So that, when he popped the question, I did blush and hang my head,
And,—well, I dare say the rest was pretty much as he has said.
* * * *
LOCKSLEY'S famous—yes, and married, notwithstanding his fierce curse,