(Who hitches laundering articles to the curtain
string and pastes them on the pane.)
Lady, thou that livest
Just across the way,
If a hang thou givest
What the people say,
If a cuss thou carest
What a poet thinks--
Hearken, if thou darest,
Most immodest minx!
Though thy gloves thou tiest,
To the curtain string,
Though the things thou driest
Gird me while I sing,
Hankies and inventions
Of the lacy tribe--
Things I may not mention,
Let alone describe.
These I mutely stand for
Though the sight offend,
THIS I reprimand for;
Take it from a friend:
Cease to pin thy tresses
To the window sill,
Or I'll tell the presses--
Honestly, I will.
