Where are the pastures daisy-strewn And the flocks that lived in clover; The Zephyrs that caught the pastoral tune And carried away the notes as soon As ever the notes were over? Where are the echoes that bore the strains Each to his nearest neighbour; And all the valleys and all the plains Where all the nymphs and their love-sick swains Made merry to pipe and tabor? Where are they gone? They are gone to sleep Where Fancy alone can find them; But Arcady's times are like the sheep That quitted the care of Little Bo-peep, For they've left their tales behind them! THE SECRETS OF THE HEART [Sidenote: _Austin Dobson_] "Le coeur mène où il va" _SCENE--A Chalet covered with honeysuckle_ NINETTE NINON NINETTE This way-- NINON No, this way-- NINETTE This way, then. (_They enter the Chalet_) You are as changing, child,--as men. NINON But are they? Is it true, I mean? Who said it? NINETTE Sister Séraphine. She was so pious and so good, With such sad eyes beneath her hood, And such poor little feet,--all bare! Her name was Eugénie la Fère. She used to tell us,--moonlight nights,-- When I was at the Carmelites. NINON Ah, then it must be right. And yet, Suppose for once--suppose, Ninette-- NINETTE But what? NINON Suppose it were not so? Suppose there _were_ true men, you know! NINETTE And then? NINON Why, if that _could_ occur, What kind of men should you prefer? NINETTE What looks, you mean? NINON Looks, voice and all. NINETTE Well, as to that, he must be tall, Or say, not "tall"--of middle size; And next, he must have laughing eyes; And a hook-nose,--with, underneath, Oh! what a row of sparkling teeth! NINON (_touching her cheek suspiciously_) Has he a scar on this side? NINETTE Hush! Some one is coming. No; a thrush: I see it swinging there. NINON Go on. NINETTE Then he must fence (ah, look, 'tis gone!) And dance like Monseigneur, and sing "Love was a Shepherd,"--everything That men do. Tell me yours, Ninon. NINON Shall I? Then mine has black, black hair ... I mean, he _should_ have; then an air Half sad, half noble; features thin; A little _royale_ on the chin; And such a pale, high brow. And then, He is a prince of gentlemen;-- He, too, can ride and fence and write Sonnets and madrigals, yet fight No worse for that-- NINETTE I know your man. NINON And I know yours. But you'll not tell,-- Swear it! NINETTE I swear upon this fan,-- My grandmother's! NINON And I, I swear On this old turquoise _reliquaire_,-- My great-_great_-grandmother's!-- _(After a pause)_