PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 100.



March 21, 1891.




MY LADY.

She is not fair to outward view
As many maidens be;
(And into _such_ a rage she flew
On learning this from me;)
And yet she's lovely, nay divine,
Judged by her own peculiar line.

She's deeply read. She knows as much
As average sixth-form boys;
But not the greatest sage could touch
The high, aggressive joys
That imp her wing, like bird of prey,
When in my dates I go astray.

Not only learning's pure serene