rts--
Yet, all their wiles were neither there nor here!

BUT when _Platonic Friendship_ they have tried,
Then, to the gods for Mercy, have I cried!
For, in the Husband-hunt, all other snares
Sink into Nothingness, _this_ game beside!

THERE is the Trap, from which you may not flee;
There is the Net, through which no man may see.
Some jest at "love," some talk of "chums," and then,
Into the Consomme, for thee and me!

[Illustration: THERE IS THE TRAP, FROM WHICH YOU MAY NOT FLEE.]

WHETHER to Church, or to the Magistrate,
You follow, after that, 'tis all too late!
For, from your Pipe-dream, you, at last, shall wake,
A MARRIED MAN, to rail in vain at Fate!

LOVE, but the Vision of a dear desire!
Marriage, the Ashes, whence has fled the fire!
Cast into chains which you, yourself, have forged!
Caught, like a sheep upon a stray barbed wire!

* * * * *

OH Thou, who first the Apple Tree didst shake,
And e'en in Eden flirted with the Snake,
Still, as in that first moment 'neath the Bough,
Dost thou, to-day, of Man a puppet make!

BUT this I know--whether the one True Mate,
Or just some Fluffy Thing with hook and bait,
Eve-like, tempt _me_--one flash of Common Sense,
And all her sorcery shall be too late!

THEN, let her never look for me, again;
For, once escaped, how many moons shall wane,
And wax and wane full oft, while still she looks
Down that same street--but ah, for ME, in vain!

YET, much as I have played the Infidel,
If, as the fated Pitcher to the Well,
_Too oft_ to Love's empyrean Font I stray,
To fall, at last, beneath some Siren's spell,

THEN, in your mercy, Friend, forbear to smile,
And with the grape my last few hours beguile,
Or, let me in some Caravanserie,
My Cynic's soul to _shackles_ reconcile.

AND when, with me, some fair, triumphant lass,
Up to the rose-decked Altar-Rail shall pass,
And, in her joyous errand, reach the spot,
Where we're made _One_--oh, drain a silent glass!
Tamam.

[Illustration: