Atalanta in Camden-Town

Ay, 'twas here, on this spot,In that summer of yore,Atalanta did notVote my presence a bore,Nor reply, to my tenderest talk, she had 'heard allthat nonsense before.'

She'd the brooch I had boughtAnd the necklace and sash on,And her heart, as I thought,Was alive to my passion;And she'd done up her hair in the style that theEmpress had brought into fashion.

I had been to the playWith my pearl of a Peri—But, for all I could say,She declared she was weary,That 'the place was so crowded and hot', and she'couldn't abide that Dundreary.'

Then I thought "'Tis for meThat she whines and she whimpers!"And it soothed me to seeThose sensational simpers,And I said "This is scrumptious!"—a phrase I hadlearned from the Devonshire shrimpers.

And I vowed "'Twill be saidI'm a fortunate fellow,When the breakfast is spread,When the topers are mellow,When the foam of the bride-cake is white, and thefierce orange-blossoms are yellow."

O that languishing yawn!O those eloquent eyes!I was drunk with the dawnOf a splendid surmise—I was stung by a look, I was slain by a tear, by atempest of sighs.

And I whispered "I guessThe sweet secret thou keepest,And the dainty distressThat thou wistfully weepest;And the question is 'License or banns?' thoughundoubtedly banns are the cheapest."

Then her white hand I clasped,And with kisses I crowned it:But she glared and she gasped,And she muttered "Confound it!"—Or at least it was something like that, but the noiseof the omnibus drowned it.