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Little Mistress Sans-Merci
by Eugene Field (1850-1895)

Little Mistress Sans-Merci
Fareth world-wide, fancy free:
   Trotteth cooing to and fro,
      And her cooing is command---
   Never ruled there yet, I trow,
      Mightier despot in the land.
And my heart it lieth where
Mistress Sans-Merci doth fare.

Little Mistress Sans-Merci---
She hath made a slave of me!
   "Go," she biddeth, and I go---
      Come," and I am fain to come.
   Never mercy doth she show,
      Be she wroth or frolicsome,
Yet am I content to be
Slave to Mistress Sans-Merci!

Little Mistress Sans-Merci
Hath become so dear to me
   That I count as passing sweet
      All the pain her moods impart,
   And I bless the little feet
      That go trampling on my heart:
Ah, how lonely life would be
But for little Sans-Merci!

Little Mistress Sans-Merci,
Cuddle close this night to me,
   And the heart, which all day long
      Ruthless thou hast trod upon,
   Shall outpour a soothing song
      For its best belovèd one---
All its tenderness for thee,
Little Mistress Sans-Merci!

 

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