4 LOCKSLEY HALL
16 lines✦
o—your happy suit was blasted—she the faultless,the divine ;And you liken—boyish babble—this boy-love of yours with mine. I myself have often babbled doubtless of a foolishpast ; Babble, babble ; our old England may go down inbabble at last. ‘Curse him!’ curse your fellow-victim? call himdotard in your rage ?Eyes that lured a doting boyhood well might fool a dotard’s age. Jilted for a wealthier! wealthier? yet perhaps shewas not wise ;I remember how you kiss’d the miniature with those sweet eyes.
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