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Lost Pleiad, The

'Twas a pretty little maiden

In a garden gray and old,

Where the apple trees were laden

With the magic fruit of gold;

But she strayed beyond the portal

Of the garden of the Sun,

And she flirted with a mortal,

Which she oughtn't to have done!

For a giant was her father and a goddess was her mother,

She was Merope or Sterope, the one or else the other;

And the man was not the equal, though presentable and rich,

Of Merope or Sterope, I don't remember which!

Now the giant's daughters seven,

She among them, if you please,

Were translated to the heaven

As the starry Pleiades!

But amid their constellation

One alone was always dark,

For she shrank from observation

Or censorious remark.

She had yielded to a mortal when he came to flirt and flatter.

She was Merope or Sterope, the former or the latter;

So the planets all ignored her, and the comets wouldn't call

On Merope or Sterope, I am not sure at all!

But the Dog-star, brightly shining

In the hottest of July,

Saw the pretty Pleiad pining

In the shadow of the sky,

And he courted her and kissed her

Till she kindled into light;

And the Pleiads' erring sister

Was the lady of the night!

So her former indiscretion as a fault was never reckoned,

To Merope or Sterope, the first or else the second,

And you'll never see so rigidly respectable a dame

As Merope or Sterope, I can't recall her name!