Pigmy seraphs’—gone astray’—
Velvet people from Vevay’—
Balles from some lost summer day’—
Bees exclusive Coterie’—
Paris could not lay the fold
Belted down with Emerald’—
Venice could not show a check
Of a tint so lustrous meek’—
Never such an Ambuscade
As of briar and leaf displayed
For my little damask maid’—
I had rather wear her grace
Than an Earl’s distinguished face’—
I had rather dwell like her
Than be “Duke of Exeter”'—
Royalty enough for me
To subdue the Bumblebee.

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