For his love is as warm as the sun, when it sets
On the larder which steams ’neath his nose.
Diogenes, Vol. 3, p. 209, 1854.
To A Lady.
Believe me, if all those voluminous charms
Which thy fondness for fashion betray,
And keep e’en thy nearest relations at arm’s
Distance—some paces away:
Were those air tubes now blown up exploded outright,