Her Letter in Chambers

I sat by the fire and watched it blaze,

And dreamed that she wrote me a letter,

And for that dream to the end of my days

To Fancy I owe myself debtor.

Next day there came the postman's knock,

The morning was bright and sunny,

And showed me a sheaf of circulars, stock

Attempts to get hold of my money.

‘ Mid correspondence of this dull kind

A dainty notelet lay hidden,

It seemed as though it had half a mind

To consider itself forbidden.

The writing was like herself, complete,

With a touch of her queenly bearing,

So Venus wrote when she ordered in Crete

Her doves to take her an airing.

Inside it was just as promising,

‘ Twas a pressing invitation

To dine at her house to-morrow, and bring

My book for her approbation.

For I have published, be it confessed,

A little volume of verses,

And in the volume whatever is best

The praise of herself rehearses.

I sit by the fire, and again I dream

A happier dream than ever,

I see her beautiful eyes soft gleam

As she murmurs, “How lovely — how clever!”

Her criticism may be commonplace,

But who can be angry after

Now sweet with pity he marks her face,

Now bright with impulsive laughter?