POEMS.
29
He:
Not long, tis true, and yet,
You've stopped my doing much I should regret.
Nor should I murmur that you teach how far
More hard than others all good women are.
She (emphatically):
That is not true, indeed it is not true.
Some men I could forgive this, but not you.
You would go home, and smile, and think I meant—
I viewed it merely as a . . .
He (politely):
Precedent!
Was that the word? Indeed, in this respect
You wrong, to say the least, my intellect.
If you forgave me, I should understand
Just what it meant . . .
She (hastily):
Oh, please let go my hand!
Here is papa, who comes, I know, to say
That it is late, and time to go away.
Not long, tis true, and yet,
You've stopped my doing much I should regret.
Nor should I murmur that you teach how far
More hard than others all good women are.
She (emphatically):
That is not true, indeed it is not true.
Some men I could forgive this, but not you.
You would go home, and smile, and think I meant—
I viewed it merely as a . . .
He (politely):
Precedent!
Was that the word? Indeed, in this respect
You wrong, to say the least, my intellect.
If you forgave me, I should understand
Just what it meant . . .
She (hastily):
Oh, please let go my hand!
Here is papa, who comes, I know, to say
That it is late, and time to go away.
