RONDEAU - BENEATH HER SHAWL.

Beneath her shawl? The maid is fair,

The winter's night is bleak and bare,

And she, quite innocent of art,

On me a smiling glance doth dart

And asks if I her shawl will share.

Full gladly I take shelter there,

(To brave the storm I did not dare,)

And feel the beating of her heart

Beneath her shawl.

Her shawl is surely Cupid's lair,

So sore his darts my bosom tear,

What wonder that, beneath the smart,

From celibate resolves I part

And to the maid my love declare,

Beneath her shawl.

[Argonaut.