DEAR KNICK: While myself and my spouse Sat tea-ing last evening, and chatting, And, mindful of conjugal vows, Were nicely agreed in combating, It chanced that myself and my wife, ('T was Madam occasioned the pother!) Falling suddenly into a strife, Came near falling out with each other! In a brisk, miscellaneous chat, Quite in tune with the chime of the tea-things, We were talking of this and of that, Just as each of us happened to see things, When somehow or other it chanced (I don't quite remember the cue), That as talking and tea-ing advanced, We found we were talking of you! I think -- but perhaps I am wrong, Such a subtle old chap is Suggestion, As he forces each topic along By the trick of the "previous question" -- Some remarks on a bacchanal revel Suggested that horrible elf With the hoof and the horns, -- and the Devil, Excuse me, suggested yourself'. "Ah! Knick, to be sure; by the way," Quoth Madam, "what sort of a man Do you take him to be! -- nay, but stay, And let me guess him out if I can. He's young, and quite handsome, no doubt; Rather slender, and not over-tall; And he loves a snug little turn-out, And turns out 'quite a love' at a ball!" And then she went on to portray Such a very delightful ideal, That a sensible stranger would say It really could n't be real. "And his wife, what a lady must she be? (KNICK's married, that I know, and you know:) You'll find her a delicate Hebe, And not your magnificent Juno!" Now I am a man, you must learn, Less famous for beauty than strength, And, for aught I could ever discern, Of rather superfluous length. In truth 't is but seldom one meets Such a Titan in human abodes, And when I stalk over the streets, I'm a perfect Colossus of roads! So I frowned like a tragedy-Roman, For in painting the beautiful elf As the form of your lady, the woman Took care to be drawing herself; While, mark you, the picture she drew So deuced con amore and free, That fanciful likeness of you, Was by no means a portrait of me! "How lucky for ladies," I hinted, "That in our republican land They may prattle, without being stinted, Of matters they don't understand; I'll show you, dear Madam, that 'KNICK' Is n't dapper nor daintily slim, But a gentleman decently thick, With a manly extension of limb. "And as to his youth, -- talk of flowers Blooming gayly in frosty December! I'll warrant his juvenile hours Are things he can scarcely remember! Here, Madam, quite plain to be seen, Is the chap you would choose for a lover!" And, producing your own Magazine, I pointed elate to the cover! "You see, ma'am, 't is just as I said, His locks are as gray as a rat; Here, look at the crown of his head, 'T is bald as the crown of my hat!" "Nay, my dear," interrupted my wife, Who began to be casting about To get the last word in the strife, "'T is his grandfather's picture, no doubt!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 1. VIETNAM by KAREN SWENSON LEINSTER by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN NEW ENGLAND [NOVEMBER 19, 1620] by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE BALLAD OF THE OYSTERMAN by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES DREAMS OLD AND NASCENT: NASCENT by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE THE GRAVE OF LOVE by THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK THE VIELD PATH by WILLIAM BARNES |