TRUE ALCHEMY.
WE talked of the opera; talked of the rain,
Of the German we danced at the ball;
Of Howells and James; of John Fiske and of Spain;
Of many things else and of nothing at all.
Of the German we danced at the ball;
Of Howells and James; of John Fiske and of Spain;
Of many things else and of nothing at all.
His manner was studied, polite, commonplace,
The "man of the world" all the time,
Until a soft rustle preceded your grace
And then all the talk was in rhyme.
The "man of the world" all the time,
Until a soft rustle preceded your grace
And then all the talk was in rhyme.
Not the rhyming of words; but the fountain of prose
Dried up like the last Summer's dew;
My courtier who chatted in tamest repose
Alert, rhymed his spirit to you;
Dried up like the last Summer's dew;
My courtier who chatted in tamest repose
Alert, rhymed his spirit to you;
An homage unstudied he laid at your feet;
From out his deep caverns of lore
He called forth the Muses, and Hymettus sweet
He daringly robbed of its store.
From out his deep caverns of lore
He called forth the Muses, and Hymettus sweet
He daringly robbed of its store.
(35)
