SHE.


The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint!

Around my pretty, cherished book,

The odor vile, the noisome taint

Of horrid, stale tobacco-smoke

Yet lingers!

The hateful man, my book to spoil!

Patrick, the tongs--lest I should soil

My fingers!



This lovely rose, these lilies frail,

These violets he has sent to me

The odor of his pipe exhale!

Am I to blame that I should be

Enraged?

Tell Mr. Simpson every time

He calls upon me, Patrick, I'm

Engaged!



ARTHUR LOVELL.



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