Classic Poem

Since first man's eyes unsealed were in sight
One word has been the symbol of his hope;
Wanting that word, the soul itself must grope
In a thick speechlessness as blank as night,
Seeking to say itself: That word is " Light! "
Suzanne, were I Hell's darkest misanthrope
And your red head came bobbing up the slope,
I'd cry, " Cheer O! Here's Sue! Things are all right! "

Old kid, I spoof you frightfully, I know,
But underneath it all ... you get me, Sue?
Wife Twenty-five had hair that turned to snow
Because I joshed her just as I josh you ...
But you, you like my playful little way!
Some hearts were broken by it! Welladay!