Playing at cards for money, I'm clear,

Is an alien thing in beautiful lives'—

He grumbled, 'The fellows will think me queer;

But then the poor fellows have not got wives.'

We talk'd the matter delightfully out;

Our words were earnest and bright and free;

We twisted it round, we turn'd it about,

And we both agreed that it should not be.

'You are my angel,' he cried, with a kiss;

'I fear lest your wings are spreading to fly,'

And his angel I ought to be, in this,

For 'tis he who is tempted, and not I.

[pg 62]

O, women have no temptations at all;

They have only to keep their white lives white;

But men are so tempted, that men must fall—

O wonderful Harry who stands upright!

Again the sweet evenings we had at first:

He reads, and I work; or we play and sing;

And looks and words that, if life were accurs'd,

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