She saw me in an instant, and stopped short
With a sudden change of look from fierce to gay.
Her black eyes gleamed with triumph as they caught,
Like some wild bird of chase, their natural prey.
``Ha, ha,'' she cried, ``c'est lui, c'est l'ingénu.
Ah, vagabond! 'Tis thus you find me out.
Standing en faction, and at midnight too,
At the actors door, with no more fear or doubt
Than any sinner of them all. Oh wise!
Who would have guessed it? No. You shall not speak.
You shall not soil your innocent lips with lies
For any foolish reason in the week,
Nor for the year together if you told
Your stories here till both of us grew old.
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt