"I want a wile," said Brown, "and since
⁠I've jilted been by Fanny,
To make the faithless creature wince
⁠I'll Miriam wed—or Annie."

Said Robinson, "No other maid
⁠Such passion can inspire;
A frenzy not to be gainsaid,
⁠That fills my veins with fire."

Said Black, "The maiden I adore
⁠As with a saint's devotion
The sacredest of shrines before,—
⁠A still and rapt emotion."

"She's full of wild caprice," said Green,
⁠"And strange and fitful fancies,
But in her alone of all I've seen
⁠A spirit of romance is."

"Ah me! I love her much," sighed Page,
⁠"But then a bird so gay
Would need a gorgeous golden cage,
⁠And ever sing 'pay, pay.'"

"She's of her sex the perfect flower,"
⁠Said Harrison, "about her
There's such a strange magnetic power
⁠Life's nothing worth without her."

Guess now, of all who bent the knee,
⁠Who finally enchained her?
Alas! I can't but fear that he
⁠Who least deserved her gained her.