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!