Too Weird to Live, and Too Rare to Die.

"

Ah, Sir, if that refusal made you smart,

It’s little that you know of woman’s heart,

Or what that heart is trying to convey

When it resists in such a feeble way!

Always, at first, our modesty prevents

The frank avowal of tender sentiments;

However high the passion which inflames us,

Still, to confess its power somehow shames us.

Thus we reluct, at first, yet in a tone

Which tells you that our heart is overthrown.

That what our lips deny, our pulse confesses.

And that, in time, all noes will turn to yeses.

"

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