Gallia
LADY, lady neatOf the roguish eye,Wherefore dost thou hie,Stealthy, down the street,On well-booted feet?From French novels IGather that you fly,Guy or Jules to meet.
Furtive dost thou range,Oft thy cab dost change;So, at least, ’tis said:Oh, the sad old talePassionately stale,We’ve so often read!