Nor that a gorgeous bow it wears
And struts with particoloured bib on;
I like these macaronic airs;
I'm very fond of rainbow ribbon.
Nor can it be—of this I'm sure—
Because she pampers all its wishes
And tempts her peevish epicure
With dainty meats in dainty dishes.
To tell the truth, while I'm her guest,
My little wants and whims she studies;