Classic Poem

A REMINISCENCE .

On Septimius' lap entwining,
While his Acme sank reclining;
" If I love thee not, " he cried,
" O my Acme! O my bride!
Even to perdition love thee,
And shall feel thy beauties move me,
As the rapid years roll by,
Like men, who love distractedly;
Then, where Afric sands are spread,
Or India's sun flames overhead,
May a lion cross me there,
With his green-eyed angry glare. "

Love stood listening in delight,
And sneezed his auspice on the right.

Acme, as her lover said,
Lightly bending back her head,
And with lips of ruby skimming
His tipsy eyes in pleasure swimming;
" Septimillus! darling mine!
So may we thus ever entwine,
Victims vowed at Cupid's shrine,
As, with still more keen requitals,
Thou art felt within my vitals! "

Love stood listening in delight,
And sneezed his auspice on the right.

In the heavenly omen blest,
They love, caressing and carest;
The poor youth would lightlier prize
Syria's groves than Acme's eyes;
Acme centres in the boy
All her longings, all her joy;
Who more bless'd has mortals seen?
When has a kinder passion been?