280 With the Birds and Poets 



She on the blusterer's arm laid one white hand, 



But he would none of her soft blandishment, 

 Yet did she plead with tears none might withstand, 



For even the fiercest hearts at last relent. 

 And he, at last, in ruffian tenderness, 



With one swift, crushing kiss her lips did greet, 

 Ah, poor starved heart! for that one rude caress, 



She cast her violets underneath his feet." 



