French With a Master

TEACH you French? I will, my dear!
Sit and con your lesson here.
What did Adam say to Eve?
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

Don’t pronounce the last word long;
Make it short to suit the song;
Rhyme it to your flowing sleeve,
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

Sleeve, I said, but what’s the harm
If I really meant your arm?
Mine shall twine it (by your leave),
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

Learning French is full of slips;
Do as I do with the lips;
Here’s the right way, you perceive,
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

French is always spoken best
Breathing deeply from the chest;
Darling, does your bosom heave?
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

Now, my dainty little sprite,
Have I taught your lesson right?
Then what pay shall I receive?
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

Will you think me overbold
If I linger to be told
Whether you yourself believe
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

Pretty pupil, when you say
All this French to me to-day,
Do you mean it, or deceive?
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

Tell me, may I understand,
When I press your little hand,
That our hearts together cleave?
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

Have you in your tresses room
For some orange-buds to bloom?
May I such a garland weave?
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

Or, if I presume too much
Teaching French by sense of touch,
Grant me pardon and reprieve!
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

Sweetheart, no! you cannot go!
Let me sit and hold you so;
Adam did the same to Eve,—
Aimer, aimer; c’est à vivre.

Theodore Tilton.