et,
I shall pretend to no more recognize
My quondam pupils than the doctor nods
When certain old acquaintances may cross
His path in Park, or sit down prim beside
His plate at dinner-table: tip nor wink
Scares patients he has put, for reason good,
Under restriction,--maybe, talked sometimes
Of douche or horsewhip to,--for why? because
The gentleman would crazily declare
His best friend was--Iago! Ay, and worse--
The lady, all at once grown lunatic,
In suicidal monomania vowed,
To save her soul, she needs must starve herself!
They're cured now, both, and I tell nobody.
Why don't you speak? Nay, speechless, each of you
Can spare,--without unclasping plighted troth,--
At least one hand to shake! Left-hands will do--
Yours first, my daughter! Ah, it guards--it gripes
The precious Album fast--and prudently!
As well obliterate the record there
On page the last: allow me tear the leaf!
Pray, now! And afterward, to make amends,
What if all three of us contribute each
A line to that prelusive fragment,--help
The embarrassed bard who broke out to break down
Dumbfoundered at such unforeseen success?
'_Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot_'
You begin--_place aux dames_! I'll prompt you then!
'_Here do I take the good the gods allot!_'
Next you, Sir! What, still sulky? Sing, O Muse!
'_Here does my lord in full discharge his shot!_'
Now for the crowning flourish! mine shall be...."

"Nothing to match your first effusion, mar
What was, is, shall remain your masterpiece!
Authorship has the alteration-itch!
No, I protest against erasure. Read,
My friend!" (she gasps out). "Read and quickly read
'_Before us death do part_,' what made you mine
And made me yours--the marriage-license here!
Decide if he is like to mend the same!"
And so the lady, white to ghastliness,
Manages somehow to display the page
With left-hand only, while the right retains
The other hand, the young man's,--dreaming-drunk
He, with this drench of stupefying stuff,
Eyes wide, mouth open,--half the idiot's stare
And half the prophet's insight,--holding tight,
All the same, by his one fact in the world--
The lady's right-hand: he but seems to read--
Does not, for certain; yet, how understand
Unless he reads?

So, understand he does,