BENEATH the gaslight’s brilliant glare
The feast was spread with dainties rare.
My whole was set with silver fine,
And shining glass and sparkling wine.
A wise professor, old and staid,
Was talking to a chattering maid.
In ancient lore she was not versed,
She was my last, and he my first;
While I across the table sat,
Wishing I could enjoy her chat.