To "Mona" who handles affairs of the heart
In Sensitive Simperings (weekly)?
Your wonderful cure, my beneficent lad,
For me, who am ready to try it,
Is robbed of its worth by your failure to add
A hint as to how they supply it.
So nice a prescription I'm anxious to trust;
'Tis milder than pills or emulsion;
But I can't fall in love; I require to be thrust,
And you ought to supply the propulsion.