Frank Dempster Sherman

Song like a rose should be; Each rhyme a petal sweet; For fragrance, melody, That when her lips repeat The words, her heart may know What secret makes them so:—

And in the evening, everywhere Along the roadside, up and down, I see the golden torches flare Like lighted street-lamps in the town.

For him delicious flavors dwell In books as in old Muscatel.