  We were very tired, we were very merry— We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry. It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable— But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table, We lay on the hill-top underneath the moon; And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon. We were very tired, we were very merry— We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry; And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear, From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere; And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold, And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold. We were very tired, we were very merry, We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry. We hailed, "Good morrow, mother!" to a shawl-covered head, And she wept, "God bless you!" for the apples and pears, And we gave her all our money but our subway fares. —Edna St. Vincent Millay, in Poetry. I was very sad, I was very solemn— I had worked all day grinding out a column. I came back from dinner at half-past seven, And I couldn't think of anything till quarter to eleven; And then I read "Recuerdo," by Miss Millay, And I said, "I'll bet a nickel I can write that way." I was very sad, I was very solemn— I had worked all day whittling out a column. I said, "I'll bet a nickel I can chirp such a chant," And Mr. Geoffrey Parsons said, "I'll bet you can't." I bit a chunk of chocolate and found it sweet, And I listened to the trucking on Frankfort Street. I was very sad, I was very solemn— I had worked all day fooling with a column. I got as far as this and took my verses in To Mr. Geoffrey Parsons, who said, "Kid, you win." And—not that I imagine that any one'll care— I blew that jitney on a subway fare. |
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