One day I got a missive
Writ in a dainty hand,
Which made my manly bosom
With vanity expand.
Twas from a young admirer
Who asked me would I mind
Sending her favorite poem
In autograph, and signed.
She craved the boon so sweetly
That I had been a churl
Had I repulsed the homage
Of this gentle, timid girl;
With bright illuminations
I decked the manuscript,
And in my choicest paints and inks
My brush and pen I dipt.
Indeed it had been tedious
But that a flattering smile
Played on my rugged features
And eased my toil the while.
I was assured my poem
Would fill her with delight
I fancied she was pretty
I knew that she was bright!
And for a spell thereafter
That unknown damsels face
With its worshipful expression
Pursued me every place;
Meseemed to hear her whisper:
O, thank you, gifted sir,
For the overwhelming honor
You so graciously confer!
But a catalogue from Benjamins
Disproves what things meseemed
Dispels with savage certainty
The flattering dreams I dreamed;
For that poor favorite poem,
Done and signed in autograph,
Is listed in Cheap Items
At a dollar-and-a-half.
