"My passion"--"Do, mi, sol, la, si."-- "Abbe, your villany lies bare."-- "Mesdames, I climb up yonder tree And fetch a star down, I declare." "Let each kiss his own lady, then The others."--"Would that I were, too, A lap-dog!"--"Softly, gentlemen!"-- "Do, mi."--"The moon!"--"Hey, how d'ye do?" L' ALLEE. Powdered and rouged as in the sheepcotes' day, Fragile 'mid her enormous ribbon bows, Along the shaded alley, where green grows The moss on the old seats, she wends her way With mincing graces and affected airs, Such as more oft a petted parrot wears. Her long gown with the train is blue; the fan She spreads between her jewelled fingers slim Is merry with a love-scene, of so dim Suggestion, her eyes smile the while they scan. Blonde; dainty nose; plump, cherry lips, divine With pride unconscious.--Subtler, certainly, Than is the mouche there set to underline The rather foolish brightness of the eye. A LA PROMENADE. The milky sky, the hazy, slender trees, Seem smiling on the light costumes we wear,-- Our gauzy floating veils that have an air Of wings, our satins fluttering in the breeze. And in the marble bowl the ripples gleam, And through the lindens of the avenue The sifted golden sun comes to us blue And dying, like the sunshine of a dream. Exquisite triflers and deceivers rare, Tender of heart, but little tied by vows, Deliciously we dally 'neath the boughs, And playfully the lovers plague the fair. Receiving, should they overstep a point, A buffet from a hand absurdly small, At which upon a gallant knee they fall To kiss the little finger's littlest joint. And as this is a shocking liberty, A frigid glance rewards the daring swain,-- Not quite o'erbalancing with its disdain The red mouth's reassuring clemency. LE FAUNE. An ancient terra-cotta Faun, A laughing note in 'mid the green, Grins at us from the central lawn, With secret and sarcastic mien. It is that he foresees, perchance, A bad end to the moments dear That with gay music and light dance Have led us, pensive pilgrims, here. MANDOLINE. The courtly serenaders, The beauteous listeners, Sit idling 'neath the branches A balmy zephyr stirs. It's Tircis and Aminta, Clitandre,--ever there!-- Damis, of melting sonnets To many a frosty fair. Their trailing flowery dresses, Their fine beflowered coats, Their elegance and lightness, And shadows blue,--all floats And mingles,--circling, wreathing, In moonlight opaline, While through the zephyr's harping Tinkles the mandoline. L'AMOUR PAR TERRE