Those serve to quench celestial daughter's thirst.

A YOUNG LADY.
Witching as ether fumes they say it is--

ANOTHER.
Balmy as lotus, sweet as almond, clear--

GULDSTAD.
That's not an article we deal in here.

FALK [who has meanwhile come down from the verandah].
Ah, ladies, every mortal has a small
Private celestial empire in his heart.
There bud such shoots in thousands, kept apart
By Shyness's soon shatter'd Chinese Wall.
But in her dim fantastic temple bower
The little Chinese puppet sits and sighs,
A dream of far-off wonders in her eyes--
And in her hand a golden tulip flower.
For her the tender firstling tendrils grew;--
Rich crop or meagre, what is that to you?
Instead of it we get an after crop
They kick the tree for, dust and stalk and stem,--
As hemp to silk beside what goes to them--

GULDSTAD.
That is black tea.

FALK [nodding].
That's what fills the shop.

A GENTLEMAN.
There's beef tea too, that Holberg says a word of--

MISS JAY [sharply].
To modern taste entirely out of date.

FALK.
And a beef love has equally been heard of,
Wont--in romances--to brow-beat its mate,
And still they say its trace may be detected
Amongst the henpecked of the married state.
In short there's likeness where 'twas least expected.
So, as you know, an ancient proverb tells,
That something ever passes from the tea
Of the bouquet that lodges in its cells,
If it be carried hither over the sea.
It must across the desert and the hills,--
Pay toll to Cossack and to Russian tills;--
It gets their stamp and licence, that's enough,
We buy it as the true and genuine stuff.
But has not Love the self-same path to fare?
Across Life's desert? How the world would rave
And shriek if you or I should boldly bear
Our Love by way of Freedom's ocean wave!
"Good heavens, his moral savour's passed away,
And quite dispersed Legality's bouquet!"--

STRAWMAN [rising].
Yes, happily,--in every moral land
Such wares continue to be contraband!

FALK.
Yes, to pass current here, Love must have cross'd
The great Siberian waste of regulations,
Fann'd by no breath of ocean to its cost;
It must produce official attestations
From friend and kindred, devils of relations,
From church curators, organist and clerk,
And other fine folks--over and above
The primal licence which God gave to Love.--
And then the last great point of likeness;--mark
How heavily the hand of culture weighs
Upon that far Celestial domain;