“Sometimes they were put to the proof, by what was called the Fiery Ordeal.”—HIST. ENG.
No morning ever seemed so long!—
I tried to read with all my might:
In my left hand “My Landlord’s Tales,”
And threepence ready in my right.
’Twas twelve at last—my heart beat high!—
The Postman rattled at the door!—
And just upon her road to church,
I dropt the “Bride of Lammermoor!”
I seized the note—I flew up stairs—
Flung-to the door, and locked me in—
With panting haste I tore the seal—
And kissed the B in Benjamin!
’Twas full of love—to rhyme with dove—
And all that tender sort of thing—
Of sweet and meet—and heart and dart—
But not a word about a ring!
In doubt I cast it in the flame,
And stood to watch the latest spark—
And saw the love all end in smoke—
Without a Parson and a Clerk!