Classic Poem

Dottie, who sincerely dottest
With thy praise this lute of mine,
Deeming me, thou say'st, the hottest
Bard that sings the mighty line:

Dottie, jocund-hearted Dottie,
I was never one to find
Maculate the shield unspotty,
Clouds upon the clearest mind.

When thou set'st the blithesome bay so
Sweetly on my blushing brow,
I were graceless to gainsay so
Keen a lit'ry judge as thou;

To deny thy fairest, latest
Utterance (January 5),
Calling me about the greatest
Minnesinger now alive.

Ruder I than any churlish
Oaf to look for any flaws
In simplicity so girlish,
In so sweet—to me—applause.

Here, upon a silver salver,
Find my heart; and with it find
All the works of C. S. Calver-
Ley, the greatest of his kind.

And whene'er thou read'st this volume
Of the verse of C. S. C,
May'st thou know how good this colyum
Actually ought to be!

Dottie, who sincerely dottest
With thy praise this lute of mine,
Deeming me, thou say'st, the hottest
Bard that sings the mighty line:

Dottie, jocund-hearted Dottie,
I was never one to find
Maculate the shield unspotty,
Clouds upon the clearest mind.

When thou set'st the blithesome bay so
Sweetly on my blushing brow,
I were graceless to gainsay so
Keen a lit'ry judge as thou;

To deny thy fairest, latest
Utterance (January 5),
Calling me about the greatest
Minnesinger now alive.

Ruder I than any churlish
Oaf to look for any flaws
In simplicity so girlish,
In so sweet—to me—applause.

Here, upon a silver salver,
Find my heart; and with it find
All the works of C. S. Calver-
Ley, the greatest of his kind.

And whene'er thou read'st this volume
Of the verse of C. S. C,
May'st thou know how good this colyum
Actually ought to be!