Only white paper where nothing is writ,
Was she his wife the first moment they met?
Did she no gradual wooing receive?
Was she never a girl?--I am sorry for Eve!

Or if like others her history sped,
In those lovely regions to mortals unknown;
Flirting and courting and woo'd ere she wed,
Was the bird of her paradise Eve's chaperone?

I wonder if Adam my fancy would strike
As something like Harry!--What _is_ Harry like?
Handsome and tall, with command in his eye,
The sweetest of smiles giving sternness the lie;
His soldierly bearing keeps foemen at bay;
His hair is clipped close in the orthodox way;
His nose has a curve from the bridge to the tip:
A statue might envy his short upper lip.
He dances divinely, and walks with an air
Half autocratic and half debonair,
With something about him no words can define:
Eve, was your hero as handsome as mine?




And oh! the years that pass'd over my head
When I was leisurely growing or grown;
And oh! the minutes that suddenly led
To the sweetest thought that ever was known.