Classic Poem

" Fee, fo, fum! my poem's come! "
I wonder how she knew it!
" And here's your paper, pen and — I —
Want to see you " do it"! "

Oh, pallid paper, tintless ink!
And steel of the untender!
How can a little lyric think
Itself a thing of splendor!

My little rune against a June
Of dimples and rose-blushes!
Ah, when the daylight drowns the moon
The skylark hides and hushes!

Now, will you close your eyes, my Rose,
And hold your blushes steady,
And here my dazzled " Idyl " goes
To — dimple-smash a'ready!

Am I a tropic traveller
To " book " my summer sheaves;
To mock my bright " equator, " here
With skeletons of leaves!

Nay, blush and dimple as you will,
To overtake or vary
Thy lyric-self, my little elf,
Is past all " stationery! "

I'll write your rhyme another time,
By some gray spectre haunted!
But summer-time! Oh, princess! I'm
Idyl-dumb! — " enchanted! "