Could’st ne’er forget whence came thy crown, nor let
This little love-match pass without a strain;
But, grovelling at the mother’s throne, between
The two new lovers, act the toady’s part,
Playing the fool, and playing unto fools,
Like some contortioned jester of the Court
Between two “spoons,” and drawing down from both
A cold insipid smile on this glad day.
Jesse H. Wheeler.