A MAUDLE-IN BALLAD.

A MAUDLE-IN BALLAD.
356.3

My lank limp lily, my long lithe lily,
My languid lily-love fragile and thin,
With dank leaves dangling and flower-flap chilly,
That shines like the shin of a Highland gilly; skin!
Mottled and moist as a cold toad’s skin!
Lustrous and leper-white, splendid and splay!
Art thou not Utter and wholly akin
To my own wan soul and my own wan chin,
And my own wan nose-tip, tilted to sway
The peacock’s feather, sweeter than sin,
That I bought for a halfpenny yesterday?

My long, lithe lily, my languid lily,
My lank, limp lily-love, how shall
I win- Woo thee to wink at me? Silver lily
How shall I sing to thee, softly or shrilly?
What shall I weave for thee-what shall I spin-
Rondel or rondeau or virelai? .
Shall I buzz like a bee with my face thrust in
Thy choice, chaste chalice, or choose me a tin
Trumpet, or touchingly, tenderly play
On the weird bird-whistle, sweeter than sin,
That I bought for a half-penny yesterday.

My languid lily, my lank limp lily,
My long, lithe lily-love, men may grin- Say that I’m soft and supremely silly-
What care I while you whisper stilly?
What care I while you smile? Not a pin!
While you smile, while you whisper-“Tis sweet to decay.
I have watered with chloridine, tears of chagrin,
The church-yard mold I have planted thee in,
Upside down in an intense way,
In a rough red flower-pot, sweeter than sin,
That I bought for a halfpenny yesterday.
-Anon.