Classic Poem

She dropped in by my study fire,
And keeping still lest I offend her,
I watched the genius of my lyre—
Her little feet were on the fender.

“I just came in to learn the news,—
Now never mind about your pencil;
When I grant regular ‘interviews’
I give them all cut out with stencil!”

She sighed and said she lonesome grew,
Upon the hill where she was staying.
Parnassus held a varied crew,—
She'd rather by herself be straying.

Loose sandaled, with her gold bronze hair
Resting like sunshine on her shoulder,
She seemed so wise, demure, and fair,
I gazed, admired, and then grew bolder.

“You make me proud, fair damozel,
Me on so dark a night to visit.
Are you the maid who serves me well
Or she who flouts me? Pray which is it?”

“I charm or plague you as I please,
Why, sir, I thought you'd been a lover!”
I think she knew, the little tease,
Phyllis was in the room above her.

“And now,” said she, “did you work out
The thought I sent you, Tuesday morning?”
I blushed and she began to pout.
“Forgot it!” Ah, that look of scorning!

“They come so fast that in arrears
I fain must get. I know 'tis wicked,
I can't find words to dress the dears
And I can't show the cherubs naked.”

She laughed right out. I saw her eyes,
Gray, grave, and sweet, of that I'm certain,
With smiles, like children, bashful wise,
Playing about each silken curtain.

We talked until she rose to leave,
I told her poetry sold slowly,
She said there was less cause to grieve,
It showed I loved it for her wholly.

How Aldrich penned his Eastern dreams,
How Volk his Winter idylls painted,
We touched on these and other themes
Until we got quite well acquainted.

Comparing things that pleased our tastes,
Great open fires and cloudy weather,
And forest walks and winter wastes,
We found our thoughts ran well together.

Before I knew it she had flown,
Ere I had kissed her! What a pity!
But I sat down right there alone,
And wrote in praise of her this ditty.