Gallantly frees you, mops his sun-tanned face,
And asks in accents low
Whether you'd like an ice, or what, in case
You breathe a doubtful "No."
Oh, the striped awning and the fairy lamp,
The cool night fragrance, the insidious damp,
And, more insidious still,
The sweet effrontery of the beardless scamp
Who babbles at his will.
Here, by the sea, which in the darkness sings,