Classic Poem

The glow and the glory are plighted
— To darkness, for evening is come;
The lamp in Glebe Cottage is lighted,
— The birds and the sheep-bells are dumb.
I'm alone, for the others have flitted
— To dine with a neighbor at Kew:
Alone, but I'm not to be pitied —
— — I'm thinking of you!

I wish you were here! Were I duller
— Than dull, you'd be dearer than dear;
I am dressed in your favorite color —
— Dear Fred, how I wish you were here!
I am wearing my lazuli necklace,
— The necklace you fastened askew!
Was there ever so rude or so reckless
— — A Darling as you?

I want you to come and pass sentence
— On two or three books with a plot;
Of course you know " Janet's Repentance " ?
— I am reading Sir Waverley Scott.
That story of Edgar and Lucy,
— How thrilling, romantic, and true!
The Master (his bride was a goosey!)
— — Reminds me of you.

They tell me Cockaigne has been crowning
— A Poet whose garland endures; —
It was you that first told me of Browning, —
— That stupid old Browning of yours!
His vogue and his verve are alarming,
— I'm anxious to give him his due;
But, Fred, he's not nearly so charming
— — A Poet as you!

I heard how you shot at The Beeches,
— I saw how you rode Chanticleer ,
I have read the report of your speeches,
— And echoed the echoing cheer.
There's a whisper of hearts you are breaking,
— Dear Fred, I believe it, I do!
Small marvel that Folly is making
— — Her Idol of you!

Alas for the World, and its dearly
— Bought triumph, — its fugitive bliss;
Sometimes I half wish I were merely
— A plain or a penniless Miss;
But, perhaps, one is blest with " a measure
— Of pelf, " and I'm not sorry, too,
That I'm pretty, because it's a pleasure,
— — My Darling, to you!

Your whim is for frolic and fashion,
— Your taste is for letters and art; —
This rhyme is the commonplace passion
— That glows in a fond woman's heart:
Lay it by in some sacred deposit
— For relics — we all have a few!
Love, some day they'll print it, because it
— — Was written to You.