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FRANCIS FALUDI.
27
When he sits upon his steed,
Mars must yield for strength and speed;
Here and there, and to and fro,
Like a Centaur, see, they go:
Yet I love him not—and I
Know full well the reason why!
Witty, wise and honor'd, too;
Tasteful, learned, thro' and thro';
Calm, courageous, just, urbane;
Courteous, aye! without a stain:
Yet I love him not—and I
Know full well the reason why!
When he smiles, delight is nigh;
Joy salutes him, passing by;
Pleasure in his steps is treading,
And his friendship, 'tis an Eden:
Yet I love him not—for I
Heard him call me false—that's why!
