Neaera still shall mark the date;
She'll steal the red fires of the rose
And daub them on her pate.
The ensanguined peonies shall grudge
Her flaming top-knot's stolen hue
(The bill shall come from Messrs. Fudge,
"To tincture, Two Pound Two").
And bees and wasps to sip its bloom
Shall buzz about that glorious tire
And, having sipped, shall feel a gloom