Something Praedesque.
I’ve many sweethearts; which shall I
Make just a pretty bit of rhyme to,
Now as the midnight moments fly,
And I have the caprice and time to?
“Be,” says my editor, “Praedesque:
That is, omit the fiery particle.”
He thinks my heart is in my desk—
Indeed, I have not such an article.
And of my sweethearts, one or two