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THE CRIME

"Small habits well pursued betimes May reach the dignity of crimes."

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

To Hasty Suzanne Pudding

Suzanne, O black-eyed picture of a dream,

From haunting thoughts I cannot seem to ban you;

I wonder if you're really what you seem,

You have the air of "chateaux en Espagne."

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At Leavitt's, midst the Famous Cake Box Mixture,

And circled round with flasks to quench the thirst.

Among the pipes and mugs you seemed a fixture,

For there it was I gazed upon you first.

"There's none like thee, though other maids be fair,"

To this conclusion you have now reduced me;

I can't resist a maid's "Come hither" stare,

Your far-off Spanish smile has quite seduced me.

But what's this rumor vile? Oh, I'm afraid

And cannot laugh it off, howe'er I seek--

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