I spent three weeks, last winter, with
The Leighs, - and met this J. P. Smith,
A friend of Amy's brother.
Like ships to Sindbad's loadstone peak,
Both were attracted (so to speak),
And like said ships were "smashed."
(One likes a good, square simile!)
But somehow Smith was foiled by me
Whene'er our interests clashed.
I saw him watch with jealous glance
His idol, as in rapturous dance
She rested on my arm;
He could n't sing; I could and she!
(Lord, those duets!) 't was plain to see
He meditated harm.
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