Where at your own sweet will you roam about--

MRS. HALM [smiling].
Oh, no, his laziness is something frightful.

MISS JAY.
What! here at Mrs. Halm's! that's most surprising--
Surely it's just the place for poetising--
[Pointing to the right.
That summer-house, for instance, in the wood
Sequestered, name me any place that could
Be more conducive to poetic mood--

FALK.
Let blindness veil the sunlight from mine eyes,
I'll chant the splendour of the sunlit skies!
Just for a season let me beg or borrow
A great, a crushing, a stupendous sorrow,
And soon you'll hear my hymns of gladness rise!
But best, Miss Jay, to nerve my wings for flight,
Find me a maid to be my life, my light--
For that incitement long to heaven I've pleaded;
But hitherto, worse luck, it hasn't heeded.

MISS JAY.
What levity!

MRS. HALM.
Yes, most irreverent!