Classic Poem

One guest will claim
No dance to-night;
No charming dame
Can charm him quite.
From square to round
The music runs,
He likes the sound—
The dance he shuns.
A lily stoops,
A rose attracts,
A wall-flower hopes,
A willow acts;
“He is a clown!”
“He cannot dance!”
The maidens frown,
And look askance.
“What brings him here?”
Asks curious Belle;
Suppose, my dear,
For news to tell.
His eyes and ears
Are chroniclers,
And someone hears
Of all occurs.
A distant hand
And darling face.
His thoughts command
In this gay place.
The world may smile,
He smiles at heart,
And for awhile
He dwells apart.
In after days
The world will blow
Some feather-phrase—
“I told you so!”—
From tongue to tongue,
And make believe
His heart was hung
Upon his sleeve.
But not to-night
The world divines
What love may write
Between the lines.