Plunge shaded eyes adown the flaming past
And lamp the locks that set the world afire: —
O wig that touched off Troy! O Dido's pyre,
Where flame was given back to flame at last!
O love that lashed Ulysses to the mast
What time the red-head Sirens smote the lyre!
O simps that used to simmer and perspire
When Mary Stuart's furnace ran full blast!

My Second Wife would very often say:
" There's nothing — nothing — I can do with it
Just after it's been washed! " Ah, welladay!
Sometimes I've thought 'twas almost wrong to hit
A woman hard ... I mention this to you
Merely in pensive reminiscence, Sue.