She. YET womanhood you reverence, So you profess! He. With heart and soul She. Of which fact this is evidence! To help Art-study, -- for some dole Of certain wretched shillings, -- you Induce a woman -- virgin too -- To strip and stand stark-naked? He. True. She. Nor feel you so degrade her? He. What -- (Excuse the interruption) -- clings Half-savage-like around your hat? She. Ah, do they please you? Wild-bird-wings! Next season, -- Paris-prints assert, -- We must go feathered to the skirt: My modiste keeps on the alert. Owls, hawks, jays -- swallows most approve. He. Dare I speak plainly? She. Oh, I trust! He. Then, Lady Blanche, it less would move In heart and soul of me disgust Did you strip off those spoils you wear, And stand -- for thanks, not shillings -- bare To help Art like my Model there. She well knew what absolved her -- praise In me for God's surpassing good, Who granted to my reverent gaze A type of purest womanhood. You -- clothed with murder of his best Of harmless beings -- stand the test! What is it you know? She. That you jest! |