Her Letter in Chambers

    I sat by the fire and watched it blaze,
        And dreamed that she wrote me a letter,
    And for that dream to the end of my days
        To Fancy I owe myself debtor.

    Next day there came the postman's knock,
        The morning was bright and sunny,
    And showed me a sheaf of circulars, stock
        Attempts to get hold of my money.

    'Mid correspondence of this dull kind
        A dainty notelet lay hidden,
    It seemed as though it had half a mind
        To consider itself forbidden.

    The writing was like herself, complete,
        With a touch of her queenly bearing,
    So Venus wrote when she ordered in Crete
        Her doves to take her an airing.

    Inside it was just as promising,
        'Twas a pressing invitation
    To dine at her house to-morrow, and bring
        My book for her approbation.

    For I have published, be it confessed,
        A little volume of verses,
    And in the volume whatever is best
        The praise of herself rehearses.

    I sit by the fire, and again I dream
        A happier dream than ever,
    I see her beautiful eyes soft gleam
        As she murmurs, "How lovely--how clever!"

    Her criticism may be commonplace,
        But who can be angry after
    Now sweet with pity he marks her face,
        Now bright with impulsive laughter?