the Lover (anon., Macaronic Verse, 1862)
Lover Echo! mysterious
what you're made, and what you are.
Lover 'Mid airy cliffs and places high,
Echo! listening love, you lie.
Lover Thou dost resuscitate dead sounds—
my voice revives, resounds!
Lover I'll question thee before I go—
answer me more apropros!
Echo Poh! poh!
Lover Tell me, fair nymph, if e'er you saw
sweet a girl as Phoebe Shaw.
Lover Say, what will turn that frisking bunny
the toils of matrimony?
Lover Has Phoebe not a heavenly brow?
not her bosom white as snow?
Echo Ass! no!
Lover Her eyes! was ever such a pair?
the stars brighter than they are?
Lover Echo, thou liest, but can't deceive
Lover But come, thou saucy, pert romancer,
is fair as Phoebe? Answer!