Think of this, O ye lovers of sweetness! and know
What you smell, when you snuff up Lubin or Pinaud.

I pass by the greetings, the transports and bliss,
Which, of course, duly followed a meeting like this,
And come down to business;--for such the intent
Of the lady who now o'er the crucible leant,
In the glow of a furnace of carbon and lime,
Like a fairy called up in the new pantomime;--
And give but her words as she coyly looked down,
In reply to the questioning glances of Brown:
"I am taking the drops, and am using the paste,
And the little, white powders that had a sweet taste,
Which you told me would brighten the glance of my eye,
And the depilatory, and also the dye,
And I'm charmed with the trial; and now, my dear Brown,
I have one other favor,--now, ducky, don't frown,--
Only one, for a chemist and genius like you
But a trifle, and one you can easily do.
Now listen: tomorrow, you know, is the night
Of the birthday _soiree_ of that Pollywog fright;
And I'm to be there, and the dress I shall wear
Is _too_ lovely; but"--"But what then, _ma chere_?"
Said Brown, as the lady came to a full stop,
And glanced round the shelves of the little back shop.
"Well, I want--I want something to fill out the skirt
To the proper dimension, without being girt
In a stiff crinoline, or caged in a hoop
That shows through one's skirt like the bars of a coop;
Something light, that a lady may waltz in, or polk,