Epilogue

So, Lady Flora, take my lay,

And, if you find a meaning there,

O whisper to your glass, and say,

'What wonder, if he thinks me fair?'

What wonder I was all unwise,

To shape the song for your delight

Like long-tail'd birds of Paradise

That float thro' Heaven, and cannot light?

Or old-world trains, upheld at court

By Cupid-boys of blooming hue --

But take it -- earnest wed with sport,

And either sacred unto you.