Everything,—hast gazed, I tell thee, ne'er.

There she sat—so near me, yet remoter

Than a star—a blue-eyed bashful imp:

On her lap she held a happy bloater,

'Twixt her lips a yet more happy shrimp.

And I loved her, and our troth we plighted

On the morrow by the shingly shore:

In a fortnight to be disunited

By a bitter fate for evermore.

O my own, my beautiful, my blue-eyed!