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DOMESTIC HAPPINESS.
III.
“More?” cried the husband, half asleep,
“You’ll drive me to despair;”
The lady was too proud to weep,
And too polite to swear.
She bit her lip for very spite,
He felt a storm was brewing,
And dreamed of nothing else all night,
But brokers, banks, and ruin.
IV.
He thought her pretty once, but dreams
Have sure a wondrous power,
For to his eye the lady seems
Quite altered since that hour;
And Love, who on their bridal eve
Had promised long to stay,
Forgot his promise, took French leave,
And bore his lamp away.
