Their white it stays for ever,

Their red it never dies:
But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
Her colour comes and goes;

It trembles to a lily,

It wavers to a rose.

The ladies of St. James's!
You scarce can understand
The half of all their speeches,
Their phrases are so grand:
But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
Her shy and simple words
Are clear as after rain-drops
The music of the birds.

The ladies of St. James's

They have their fits and freaks; They smile on you-for seconds, They frown on you-for weeks; But Phyllida, my Phyllida!

Come either storm or shine, From Shrove-tide unto Shrove-tide, Is always true-and mine.

My Phyllida! my Phyllida!

I care not though they heap

The hearts of all St. James's,
And give me all to keep;
I care not whose the beauties
Of all the world may be,
For Phyllida-for Phyllida
Is all the world to me!

"GOOD NIGHT, BABETTE!"

"Si vieillesse pouvait !—"

SCENE. A small neat Room. In a high Voltaire Chair sits a white-haired old Gentleman.

MONSIEUR VIEUXBOIS. BABETTE.

M. VIEUXBOIS (turning querulously)

Day of my life! Where can she get?
BABETTE! I say! BABETTE!-BABETTE!!

BABETTE (entering hurriedly)

Coming, M'sieu! If M'sieu' speaks
So loud he won't be well for weeks!

M. VIEUXBOIS

Where have you been?

BABETTE

Why, M'sieu' knows:

April!... Ville-d'Avray!... Ma'am'selle ROSE!

M. VIEUXBOIS

Ah! I am old,—and I forget.

Was the place growing green, BABETTE?

BABETTE

But of a greenness !—yes, M'sieu !
And then the sky so blue !—so blue!
And when I dropped my immortelle,
How the birds sang!

(Lifting her apron to her eyes)

This poor Ma'am'selle!

M. VIEUXBOIS

You're a good girl, BABETTE, but she,—

She was an Angel, verily.

Sometimes I think I see her yet

Stand smiling by the cabinet;

And once, I know, she peeped and laughed

Betwixt the curtains...

Where's the draught?

(She gives him a cup)

Now I shall sleep, I think, BABETTE;

Sing me your Norman chansonnette.

BABETTE (sings)

"Once at the Angelus
(Ere I was dead),
Angels all glorious

Came to my Bed;—
Angels in blue and white

Crowned on the Head."

M. VIEUXBOIS (drowsily)

"She was an Angel"... "Once she laughed".

What, was I dreaming?

Where's the draught?

BABETTE (showing the empty cup)

The draught, M'sieu ?

M. VIEUXBOIS

How I forget!

I am so old! But sing, BABETTE!

BABETTE (sings)

"One was the Friend I left

Stark in the Snow;
One was the Wife that died

Long,-long ago;

One was the Love I lost...

How could she know?"

M. VIEUXBOIS (murmuring)

Ah, PAUL!... old PAUL!... EULALIE too!
And ROSE!... And O! "the sky so blue!"

"I am so old!... "Good night, BABETTE!"

THE BALLAD OF THE ARMADA

King Philip had vaunted his claims;

He had sworn for a year he would sack us;

With an army of heathenish names

He was coming to fagot and stack us;

Like the thieves of the sea he would track us,