Classic Poem

Dear Harry Hinde,
If you've a mind,—
This evening at eight,
Or hardly so late,
Being at leisure,
With very great pleasure,
I find I can come
To go with you home;—
(And drink of thy tea,
As I promised to thee:)
Yet—prithee don't, Harry,
By any means tarry
If this evening you should be
Engaged—for that would be
To me—the huge source
Of a deal of remorse;
For you know, if it won't suit,
I can bring up my flute
To skiggle and squeak
Any night of the week.
—Dask, now, I go to my dinner,
For all day I've been away at the West End,
Painting the best end
Of some vast Parrots
As red as new carrots,—
(They are at the museum,—
—When you come you shall see 'em,—)
I do the head and neck first;—
—And ever since breakfast
I've had one bun merely!
So—yours quite sincerely