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