Page 35 - Poetry-Romance

Cupid as Reporter:
A Reminiscence of St. Valentine’s

I’m not at home if Cupid calls (she said)
To ask for “news” concerning whom I’ll wed;
The subject has no interest for me,
Nor even sense, so far as I can see.
Besides, I hate the matrimonial press,
And petty puffs of fortune, face, and dress.
So, if he calls—that brazen baggage, Cupid!—
Just say I’m out, or ill, or—stay, you stupid!
Invite him in—but say, with cold regard—
Mind, very cold! —“Please, sir, I’ll take your card!”

Hark! some one knocks! Can it be he, I wonder?
It must be he—just hear the knocker thunder!
YES! —Come right up! —Poor fellow, he’s in haste;
‘T would be a shame his precious time to waste.
What rosy cheeks!—what perfect taste in dressing!
And yet, I fear!—these press-men are so pressing!
Good-day, kind sir!

CUPID.
Sweet Lady, I am sent
By “Hymen’s Times” to get your views anent
A candidate for our next spring-election;
Is Mr. C— the man of your selection?

SHE.
Oh, dear me, no! (Be seated, please, by me.)
Yet do not think we do not quite agree;
And do not say that I have told you this,
Or that I’m not for him—swear on this kiss!
And this!—since two are needed to a bargain.
And this!—since three will leave one kiss for margin.

CUPID.
Sweet Lady, please repeat! I’ve seldom heard
Such eloquence, and wish to jot each word.
Ah, thanks!—I fear you’ll smother my next question!
If you will pardon me the bold suggestion,
Do you prefer some other candidate?

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