You bid me try, Blue Eyes, to write
A Rondeau. What! Forthwith!--Tonight?
Reflect. Some skill I have, 'tis true;
But thirteen lines!--and rhymed on two!--
'Refrain,' as well. Ah, hapless plight!

Still, there are five lines--ranged aright.
These Gallic bonds, I feared, would fright
My easy Muse. They did, till you--
You bid me try!

That makes them eight.--The port's in sight:
'Tis all because your eyes are bright!
Now just a pair to end in 'oo,'--
When maids command, what can't we do!
Behold!--the Rondeau, tasteful, light,
You bid me try!

More verses by Henry Austin Dobson