LA DERNIERE ROBE DE SOI.

OH, silken gown, all pink and pretty, Bought, quite a bargain, in the City, Your ill-trained soul full false has played me— No Paris gown would have betrayed me.

You knew, my pretty silken treasure, I must not wed for love or pleasure, But for a settlement and title; Yet you encouraged his recital!

He said—oh, faithless gown, you listened While on your sheen two tear drops glistened— He said . . . let love to music set it, I'll never speak it—nor forget it!

"No, no!" I cried, I tried to save you— False gown, you showed the tears I gave you! You looked discreet when first I found you. How could you let his arm go round you?

You darling dress—I'll smooth your creases, I'll wear you till you drop to pieces; But poor men's wives wear cotton only— Dear gown—I hope you won't feel lonely!