"No!" The word
Fell upon my ears
Like the knell of a funeral bell.
I had fondly expected
A whispered "yes" that
Would steal into my soul
Like the song of an angel
From some distant Aidenn.
I arose and brushed off
The knees of my trousers.
"Farewell," I said; "you have ruined my life."
"Nonsense," she replied in the cold, cutting voice
Of a woman who has been used to $100 bills
And a coupé;
"There have been thirty-seven before you, and they
Are all married and happy now.
You see I know all about young men."
"I do not think a young, timid girl
Should 'No' so much," I answered. And going out
(Carefully escorted by the butler, for there was
A better overcoat than mine in the hall),
I left her alone and unloved,—with no one to care for her
Save a couple of dozen servants
And a doting father and mother.