Ubique.

PHYLLIS DARE, Phyllis Dare, though, of course, I’m aware
That your figure’s divine and your beauty is rare;
At your photograph though I am willing to stare
For hours (in fact, all the time I can spare);
Though the world’s admiration I own that I share
For the size of your eyes and the shade of your hair;—
Yet somehow I feel (you won’t think me a bear?)
That just now you’re a trifle too much in the air.

  *     *     *    *

When I travel by train (having first paid my fare),
I open my paper, and lo! you are there.
‘ “Some Recent Events in my Life,” by Miss Dare,’
‘ “How I Feel when I’m Singing a Song,” by Miss Dare,’
‘ “How I Study a Part in a Play,” by Miss Dare,’
Stop Press News, ‘ “What I Use for my Teeth,” by Miss Dare,’
‘ “Should Peers Marry Gibson Girls?”—Chat with Miss Dare,’
‘ “Shall I ever play Lady Macbeth?” by Miss Dare,’
‘ “Should Soulful Expressions be taxed?” by Miss Dare.’
  Miss Dare,
  Take care!
Would you drive a respectable man to despair?
Would you have him gesticulate wildly, and swear?
His diminishing locks would you lead him to tear,
  Phyllis Dare?

  *     *     *    *

I repeat, you are sweet. But, oh! list to my prayer—
Take a rest for a space, and recede from the glare
Of the popular search-light; and let the fierce blare
Of the trumpet die down for a little, Miss Dare.
Your doings crowd out the last popular scare.
The Springboks, the Kaiser, C.-B., the Lord Mayor,
Can’t get themselves noticed while you’re in the air.
  Is it fair,
  Phyllis Dare?