But although the foreigner was baffled in his desire to use the
appropriate imprecation--he thought it!

* * * * *

MOTH-EATEN.

[Illustration]

It is a stifling night; I sit
With windows open wide;
And the fragrance of the rose is blown
And also the musk outside,
There's plenty of room for the moths out there
In the cool and pleasant gloom;
And yet these mad insectual beasts
Will swarm into my room.

I've thrown so many things at him,
And thrown them all so hard;
There goes the sofa-cushion; that
Missed him by half a yard.
My hot tears rain; my young heart breaks
To see him dodging thus;
It is not right for him to be
So coy--so devious.

As I sit by my duplex lamp,
And write, and write, and write;