Lord Lytton

Oh, better no doubt is a dinner of herbs,
When season'd with love, which no rancour disturbs
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Oh, better no doubt is a dinner of herbs,
When season'd with love, which no rancour disturbs
And sweeten'd by all that is sweetest in life
Than turbot, bisque, ortolans, eaten in strife!
But if, out of humour, and hungry, alone
A man should sit down to dinner, each one
Of the dishes which the cook chooses to spoil
With a horrible mixture of garlic and oil,
The chances are ten against one, I must own,
He gets up as ill-tempered as when he sat down.

It smelt so faint, and it smelt so sweet,
It made me creep and it made me cold.
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It smelt so faint, and it smelt so sweet,
It made me creep and it made me cold.
Like the scent that steals from the crumbling sheet
Where a mummy is half unroll'd.

And the jasmine flower in her fair young breast,
(O the faint, sweet smell of that jasmine flower!)
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And the jasmine flower in her fair young breast,
(O the faint, sweet smell of that jasmine flower!)
And the one bird singing alone to his nest.
And the one star over the tower.

As pure as a pearl,
And as perfect: a noble and innocent girl.

As pure as a pearl,
And as perfect: a noble and innocent girl.

No star ever rose or set without influence somewhere.

No star ever rose or set without influence somewhere.