Page 33 - Poetry-Romance

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Here she comes back, at last, grown a rose, in the waltz!
Fanling! take her this kiss, and I’ll pardon your faults!

— C.E.S. (Century Magazine, 1882)

Two Triolets

WHAT HE SAID:
This kiss upon your fan I press, —
Ah! Sainte Nitouche, you don’t refuse it?
And may it from its soft recess—
This kiss upon your fan I press—
Be blown to you, a shy caress,
By this white clown, whene’er you use it.
This kiss upon your fan I press, —
Ah, Sainte Nitouche, you don’t refuse it!

WHAT SHE THOUGHT :
To kiss a fan!
What a poky poet!
The stupid man,
To kiss a fan,
When he knows that—he—can
Or ought to—know it—
To kiss a fan!
What a poky poet!

— Harrison Robertson (Century Magazine, 1883)

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