in that gallant company,"--
Said Aucassin to Nicolette.

"There, too, are jousts and joyance rare,
And beauteous ladies debonair,
The pretty dames, the merry brides,
Who with their wedded lords coquette
And have a friend or two besides,--
And all in gold and trappings gay,
With furs, and crests in vair and gray,"--
Said Aucassin to Nicolette.

"Sweet players on the cithern strings,
And they who roam the world like kings,
Are gathered there, so blithe and free!
Pardie! I'd join them now, my pet,
If you went also, ma douce mie!
The joys of Heaven I'd forego
To have you with me there below,"--
Said Aucassin to Nicolette.

Edmund Clarence Stedman [1833-1908]

ON THE HURRY OF THIS TIME

With slower pen men used to write,
Of old, when "letters" were "polite";
In Anna's or in George's days,
They could afford to turn a phrase,
Or trim a struggling theme aright.

They knew not steam; electric light
Not yet had dazed their calmer sight;--
They meted out both blame and praise
With slower pen.

Too swiftly now the Hours take flight!
What's read at morn is dead at night:
Scant space have we for Art's delays,
Whose breathless thought so briefly stays,
We may not work--ah! would we might!--
With slower pen.

Austin Dobson [1840-1921]

"GOOD-NIGHT, BABETTE!"
Si vieillesse pouvait!--

Scene.--A small neat Room. In a high Voltaire Chair
sits a white-haired old Gentleman.

Monsieur Vieuxbois Babette

M. Vieuxbois (turning querulously)
Day of my life! Where can she get!
Babette! I say! Babette!--Babette!

Babette (entering hurriedly)
Coming, M'sieu'! If M'sieu' speaks
So loud, he won't be well for weeks!

M. Vieuxbois
Where have you been?

Babette
Why M'sieu' knows:--
April!... Ville d'Avray!... Ma'am'selle Rose!

M. Vieuxbois
Ah! I am old,--and I forget.
Was the place growing green, Babette?

Babette
But of a greenness!--yes, M'sieu'!
And then the sky so blue!--so blue!
And when I dropped my immortelle,
How the birds sang!
(Lifting her apron to her eyes)
This poor Ma'am'selle!

M. Vieuxbois
You're a good girl, Babette, but she,--
She was an Angel, verily.
Sometimes I think I see her yet
Stand smiling by the cabinet;
And once, I know, she peeped and laughed
Betwixt the curtains...
Where's the draught?
(She gives him a cup)
Now I shall sleep, I think, Babette;--
Sing me your Norman chansonnette.

Babette (sings)
"Once at the A