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Canadian
Born
by
Emily Pauline Johnson
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Lady
Lorgnette
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I
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Lady
Lorgnette, of the lifted lash,
The curling
lip and the dainty nose,
The shell-like ear where the jewels flash,
The arching
brow and the languid pose,
The rare old lace and the subtle scents,
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The
slender foot and the fingers frail,—
I may act till the world grows wild and tense,
But never a
flush on your features pale.
The footlights glimmer between us two,—
You in the box
and I on the boards,—
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I am
only an actor, Madame, to you,
A mimic king
’mid his mimic lords,
For you are the belle of the smartest set,
Lady
Lorgnette.
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II
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| Little
Babette, with your eyes of jet, |
15 |
Your
midnight hair and your piquant chin,
Your lips whose odors of violet
Drive men to
madness and saints to sin,— [Page
6]
I see you over the footlights’ glare
Down in the
pit ’mid the common mob,—
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Your
throat is burning, and brown, and bare,
You lean, and
listen, and pulse, and throb;
The viols are dreaming between us two,
And my gilded
crown is no make-believe,
I am more than an actor, dear, to you,
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25 |
For
you called me your king but yester eve,
And your heart is my golden coronet,
Little
Babette. [Page 7]
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