A COUP D'ÉTAT.
Reading edition
If little seeds by slow degree Put forth their leaves and flowers unheard, Our love had grown into a tree, And bloomed without a single word I haply hit on six o'clock, The hour her father came from town; I gave his own peculiar knock, And waited slyly, like a clown. The door was open. There she stood, Lifting her mouth's delicious brim. How could I waste a thing so good! I took the kiss she meant for him. A moment on an awful brink— Deep breath, a frown, a smile, a tear; And then, "O Robert, don't you think That that was rather—cavalier?" [London Society.