In Other Words/The Pandean Is No Pipe
The Pandean is no Pipe
“Rat-a-tat!” go the rattle-y rivets Only a block from this Broadway abode.Though I were right as a legion of trivets, How could I pencil a perishless ode?
“Ting-a-ling-ling!” goes the ring telephonic: Haste I to answer it, out in the hall,“Well?” I intone. Says the lady, laconic, “Hang your receiver up. I didn’t call.”
Enters a boy who demandeth exchanges; Cometh a critic to borrow a match.Had I the poise of the Appenine ranges, Still inspiration would fail to attach.
Day after day do I tease the afflatus, Wooing a muse that is too far aloft,And when I leave, a forlorn literatus, Office-mates say, “Gee, that guy’s got it soft.”