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