Take beet—for like love it is red;
Crisp leaf of the lettuce shall glitter,
And cress from the rivulet’s bed:
Anchovies foam-born, like the lady
Whose beauty has maddened this bard,
And olives, from groves that are shady;
And eggs—boil ’em hard.”
Beard. (Browning.)
Waitress, with eyes so marvellous black,
And the blackest possible lustrous gay tress,