Tonight

We can't to-night! We're overworked and busy;
We've got a lot of paragraphs to write;
Although your invitation drives us dizzy,
We can't to-night!

But, Trixie, we admit we're greatly smit with
The heart you picture—incandescent, white.
We must confess that you have made a hit with
Us here to-night.

O Beatrice! O Tempora! O Heaven!
List to our lyre the while the strings we smite;
Where shall you be at—well, say half-past seven
To-morrow night?
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