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A REMONSTRANCE.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

I'd not forbid my love to flirt,

It were a hopeless charge;

I'd only have those eyes of blue

More sure in their discharge.

I'd have you smile, then turn away,

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Instead of simply stare;

I'd have you show a little pique,

And be less debonair.

I'd have you cast your lashes down,

With just a tinge of red

Reflected from your crimson fan

When something sweet is said.

I'd have you stammer at a word

And gently tap your hand,

As if, from soft embarrassment,

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