Etchings in Verse (Underhill)/Madeleine

by Andrew Findlay Underhill

LISETTE.

WE worshiped each other, Both I and Lisette: She was French—a grisette.No sister, nor brotherHad we not another Claimed me or Lisette.

We grew up together, Both I and Lisette— She was fair, this grisette.Thro' clear, and dark weatherWe loved on together, Myself and Lisette.

My age five-and-twenty, And a score for Lisette, She sighs with regret. Rich suitors are plenty,And jewels, at twenty, Are worlds to Lisette.

My heart was the jewel I gave to Lisette— So freely!—and yet,With hands cold and cruel,She flung down the jewel, And crushed it, Lisette.

I've heard that the Devil Throws dice for Lisette; Her dark hair is wetWith the wine of the revel,And the Duke—or the Devil— Laughs loud with Lisette.

I should have been wedded E'er this to Lisette; But she's gone, my grisette. Was it true love she dreaded—And faith—when she wedded, With shame, lost Lisette?

She drives in her carriage, "Madame," once Lisette. Transformed from grisetteTo "Madame" without marriage,Ah, me! is your carriage Worth that, my Lisette!